


Bend to Not Break

by Sashas_Fierceness



Series: Family Ties [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashas_Fierceness/pseuds/Sashas_Fierceness
Summary: Five times Cara Dune was gentle and the Mandalorian reciprocated.First Chapter is set immediately after Chapter 7. The gang has rescued Baby Yoda, but now what?
Relationships: Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Family Ties [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782406
Comments: 219
Kudos: 513





	1. The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm new here. I used to write over on FF.net, but this is my first Star Wars fic. All I can say for myself is I might be a woman who works in a male dominated industry and just spent several hours with a 7 month old baby and a 3 year old toddler. If you think you are too tough to cry frustrated tears I double dog dare you to care for two small children at once. Giddy-up!

Cara Dune is not a delicate woman. Her own mother often referred to Cara as, “a ronto in a Lishin shop.” Mother Dune usually followed this unfavourable comparison up with a reminder to be, “Gentle! Gentle Cara! Gentle!”

Some little girls may have developed a complex from such parental derision and actively tried to develop, or feign, a more cautious and lady like manner. Not Cara Dune. She learned to run faster, jump higher, and hit harder. Elegance and grace came later and were a means to finish fights quickly and in her favour.

Cara has never regretted her lack of girlish ways, but in this moment, when faced with a distressed child, an overbearing droid, and a panic stricken Mandalorian she does envy women like Omera of Sorgan with their ability to bring peace to a room just by walking into it. Such a skill would be invaluable amid chaos, and currently Cara is surrounded by chaos.

Chaos is nothing new to Cara. She was a Rebel Shock Trooper after all, and soldiers of all breeds are taught to be calm in the midst of battle. Stick her in a fire fight and Cara won’t lose her head. But, she isn’t in a fire fight right now. The battle is over and won, and Cara senses the chaos she is now facing requires a soft touch to bring order to the troops.

Before Cara can formulate an effective response to her predicament, IG-11 who is now programmed to be overly helpful in all situations, and thus an even bigger thorn in the Mandalorian’s side speaks. “I think, New Master it may be best for me to hold the Young Master whilst Ms. Dune sees to your, er, injuries.”

The Mandalorian’s only response is to cock his blaster at the droid. If he could, the bounty hunter would also threaten to shoot the droid in the head a second time just for implying he and the child are the droid’s new masters. Problem is, he can’t verbally threaten anyone right now. Verbal threats require the ability to speak and right now the Mandalorian is thoroughly winded.

Cara seems to believe he is hyperventilating and keeps pointing this out in a voice he thinks is meant to be soothing, but the look on her face says she wants to throttle him. She’s being ridiculous; Mandalorians do not hyperventilate. The spots in front of his eyes, his laboured breathing, and even the fact he just nearly dropped his young charge on its fragile baby head when he collapsed against a wall of the Razor Crest can be chalked up to post-battle exhaustion.

Although, that doesn’t explain why the child is wailing so loudly, or why those cries are sounding further and further away to the Mandalorian.

“Mando, Mando? You really need to take that helmet off. I know you don’t want to, but we have to figure something out. You’re hyperventilating. You need air. You’re scaring me…you’re scaring the kid.”

Cara’s voice sounded worried and the look on her face now expressed the same concern as her voice. The kid is pretty hysterical too when he thinks on it. And the kid’s been through enough today what with watching Kuiil die, getting kidnapped by Imps, and then rescued not by the Mandalorian, but a newly conscientious IG-11. Turns out a battalion of storm troopers, a tie fighter, and Moff Gideon are no match for the Razor Crest manned by an orphaned IG-11 out to avenge the closest thing it had known to family. The storm trooper who offered Greef twenty credits for Mando’s helmet was the first to die at the droid’s hands and would never know his helmet would from then on sit on the wall of whichever space IG-11 called home.

Another wail from the child brought Mando back to the present. He tried to articulate his agreement with Cara’s assessment that the helmet needed to go, but also warn her some precaution would have to be taken to not expose his face to anyone. Unfortunately, breathing was getting rapidly more difficult and the only way he could indicate his assent was to lower his blaster and hand the wailing child to Cara.

Cara took his actions to mean he was willing to lose the helmet. But, the child was having none of it, already trying to scrabble out of her tight hold to get back to the Mandalorian. Cara fussed with the child holding his squirming body out in the space between the Mandalorian sitting against the wall, and her kneeling position in front of the bounty hunter.

“I know, I know, Little Man,” she tried pushing the child tightly against her chest. Gentle, be gentle Cara. “I need my hands to help your Dad okay Little Man? Help Dad see?” Cara held the child securely by the neck with one hand and turned him towards the Mandalorian. She placed one hand on Mando’s helmet, as if she was lovingly cupping a lover’s chin. “See? I’m going to help him. Can you help me help your Dad?”

One of Mando’s hands came up to rub the child’s back as Cara caressed his helmet. Mando hoped he could wordlessly soothe the child into complying with Cara. Darkness was beginning to edge his vision and time was of the essence.

“I really should hold the child so Ms. Cara can tend to you-

IG-11’s poorly timed intervention resulted in several things happening at once. The child reared back from the droid’s outstretched arms while letting out another ear-splitting scream, Mando again raised his blaster, and Cara at her wit’s end yelled, “Enough!” loud enough to render the child, the Mandalorian, and IG-11 silent and still. Three pairs of male (seeming) eyes turned to face her with the kind of fear reserved for moments like these; when male haplessness collides with a frustrated woman.

“Perhaps I would be of better service ensuring the Razor Crest can fly once we are ready to depart…” IG-11 stated while slowly backing out of the cockpit with its hands in the air.

“You do that.” Cara replied in an overly syrupy voice with a not at all deranged look in her eyes. “And you,” she looked down at the now silent child in her arms who was staring at her like she might explode. “You. Arms around my neck now. And hang on.”

Cara wrapped the little creature’s arms around her neck and placed her hands on the Mandalorian’s helmet.

“You still with us?” she asked, and he nodded. “Good, because I have no idea how to get this thing off, and-

Mando’s right hand shot up to her face and the other pulled on the scrap of fabric she had tied around her arm tattoo.

“There’s no time for that,” Cara barked. “I’ll just close my eyes.”

The Mandalorian again pulled on the fabric and let out an alarming wheeze. The child whined from its place buried in her neck.

“Okay, okay,” she said while letting go of the helmet to unwind the fabric from her arm. After tying it around her eyes to obscure her vision her hands were back on the helmet. “Alright, let me know when I can pull.”

Cara heard several beeps and clicks she presumed were a result of the Mandalorian operating his gauntlet controls, and then she felt his hand tap her wrist.

“Okay, gentle, gentle,” she whispered while helping him pull off the helmet gingerly. Once the helmet was off, she immediately reached for the area she knew his head to be in and grabbed a fist full of his hair. “Head down! Knees up!” she stated in a voice he could not argue with.

The Mandalorian complied by drawing his knees up, lowering his head, and drawing a deep breath in through his nose. The benefits were immediate. However, as his breathing slowed, and his heart rate evened out Mando realized someone was touching him without his helmet on for the first time since he was a pre-teen. His breathing picked up again.

Cara had kept one hand in his hair and the other on the back of his neck to monitor his progress. She felt him startle before he even realized why he was skittish. “S’okay, stay down Mando. I can’t see you. The kid isn’t looking. You need to breathe. Stay down.”

Mando did his best to fight the instinct to get up and run from Cara’s presence. It helped that she was now running both her hands through his hair and even rubbing the back of his neck in a soothing motion while mumbling something about rontos and being gentle.

For her part Cara was trying to focus on calming Mando instead of being distracted by touching him flesh to flesh with no beskar between them. Of course, she was curious about what he looked like under the armour, but she wouldn’t violate his trust by ripping the fabric from her eyes to look at him. If Cara’s hands happened to wander a little on the way back from his neck to his hairline, she didn’t think he would mind.

In fact, the Mandalorian seemed to be relaxing into her touch once again, even seeking it out like a stray animal who has finally found someone to comfort it. As he leaned into her touch Cara swept her hands over the perimeter of his face making notes to squirrel away in her mind such as,

_facial hair not clean shaven-strong jawline-definitely humanoid-crow’s feet-so a man not a boy-thick hair that waved when sweaty and curled around his collar._

Both the man and the woman were too absorbed in the moment to notice the tiny child slowly and softly pull away from Cara’s neck. The child had been listening to the change in his caretaker’s breathing, hoping the man would soon recover. The man’s breathing had evened out, and the child was glad, but also curious. The man’s breathing sounded different, like it was closer and clearer. The child had to investigate. He turned his head towards his caretaker and unfurled his ears.

What the child saw startled him more than any sound could have. There in front of him was the body of his caretaker, but it was attached to a different head. The child let out a cry that held mostly fear, but just an edge of anticipation. Mando reacted instantly and raised his head to try and assess the child’s distress.

And there, in that moment, Dyn Jarren, for he truly was just himself without his helmet, looked into the eyes of his young charge for the first time without obstruction. The child reared back and yelled and Mando did the same, striking his head off the wall.

“Mando?! What’s going on? I can’t see! Should I take this off?” Cara’s voice was panicked as she struggled to reach for the blindfold and hold the child.

“No!” Dynn recovered himself just in time. “No! Leave it! It’s fine!”

Cara didn’t buy that for a second. The child was still wailing in her arms. “What’s going on? I heard a thump! Are you hurt? Is the kid hurt?”

“No, no one is hurt.” Dyn took several deep and shaky breaths while staring at the crying child. “He…he’s seen my face.”

Cara Dune is not a delicate woman. She has survived battle, many a near scrapes with death, and buried more comrades than she cares to remember, all without shedding a tear. But, it’s been a long day. A day in which she thought she would die, Mando would die, and most grievously of all, the child would die. Kuiil did die.

And now, all that aside she has failed to keep Mando’s face from being seen. She lost track of the child by indulging her own desires and now Mando’s privacy and his religion, creed, way, whatever has been violated. She, Cara Dune, has once again behaved like a ronto in a Lishen shop and now her only friend has likely been stripped of his life’s meaning.

Cara let out a sob, and suddenly she and the child are crying.

If Cara thought Dyn was going to be gutted by the child seeing his face, she had overestimated his ability to watch a child he now thought of as his own, and the only person left he could call a friend ugly cry.

Dyn stared agape at the woman and child. He had to do something, but what? He wasn’t good at feelings and the only person he knew who might be able to tell him the proper way to react in this situation was dead. Kuiil gave his life protecting the child currently bawling his eyes out while burrowing into Cara’s chest. Dyn gathered himself internally as best he could and asked himself what the Ugnaught would have done in this moment. He pictured a patient face, and even more patient words.

Dyn pulled off his gauntlet and gloves with shaky hands. No sense putting his helmet on. Cara was too busy crying, berating herself, and cuddling the child to even consider taking off her blindfold, and the kid had seen his face. The Loth-cat was out of the bag, at least where the kid was concerned.

Comfort was what was needed, and quickly before the idiot droid took Cara and the kid’s hysterics as a reason to run back into the cockpit and truly rid Dyn of his ability to ever put his helmet back on again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Dyn reached for Cara and the child. He placed both his hands around the child first. “Don’t cry Cara please, you did nothing wrong.”

“I…should…have…held…him…” her reply was punctuated by gulping breaths for air and more sobs.

Dyn pitched his voice low and soft in the same manner he used with the child when it had impromptu fits in the middle of the night. “No, it’s okay, we’re all okay.” Dyn rubbed the child’s back. “Just keep that blindfold on for now and let me deal with the womp rat.”

Dyn gingerly removed the child from Cara’s arms and turned it towards his face. “Hey, hey little man, it’s me, remember me?” Dyn used one arm to cradle the child and the other to pick up his helmet. “See? It’s me.”

Dyn placed the helmet on his head. “See still me.” He then pulled it back off. “Same voice. Same me. Do you get it womp rat?”

Dyn’s pantomime seemed to be working because the kid was no longer outright crying, but instead staring at him and whimpering a little.

Dyn placed his helmet on the ground once more and cuddled the child to his chest pushing the little one’s head into his neck so the youngster could scent him. “It’s me. I’m here. You’re okay. We’re all okay.”

Dyn rocked the child softly and the small being seemed to settle a little against him. A loud sniff from Cara brought Dyn out of his bubble with the child.

“What’s going on?” *sniff* “Is he okay? Are you okay?”

Dyn swept his gaze over her. Cara Dune is not a delicate woman, and she could surely take care of herself without needing a man to lean on. However, right now kneeling in front of him with her eyes covered, her wounds still bleeding, snot running down her face, and if he is honest with himself, her ample chest heaving as she tries to breathe she is as close to a damsel in distress as he is likely to ever witness.

“We’re okay. He was bound to see my face sooner or later. And the rules are different between Mandalorians and foundlings. He can see my face.” Dyn explained while gently prying the kid from his neck and shifting onto his knees in front of Cara.

“You however, are another matter. Can you hold him and promise to keep your eyes closed?” Dyn asked.

“Why? What are you doing?”

“Can you just trust me right now? I’m trusting you to keep your eyes closed come what may for the next while.”

“Okay.”

Cara’s assent given, Dyn reached for her hands and placed the child into her arms. Satisfied the child was secure, Dyn reached behind Cara's head to untie the fabric.

“I’m going to use the fabric to clean your face up. Is that okay?” he asked softly.

“Yes.”

“Remember. Eyes closed. I’ll let you know what I’m doing before I make any sudden moves.” Dyn said as he began gently wiping the tears and snot from her face. When he finished Dyn held the rag to her nose and said, “blow.”

Cara did as instructed and Dyn dealt with the result exactly as he would if mopping up the kid’s snot. 

“Alright, womp rat. You’re turn.” Dyn said while folding the fabric up into a square small enough to use on the kid.

Dyn’s gentle and familiar ministrations awoke an understanding in the child that the dark-haired man with the crooked smile in front of him really was his caretaker just without a metal top. Once his face was clean the child let out a happy babble and reached for Dyn.

“That’s right womp rat it’s me.” Dyn made to reach for the child, but then he caught sight of Cara with her eyes still screwed shut tightly.

Dyn told himself his next action was for the child first, and Cara second, and only a teeny tiny bit for him. Dyn left the child in Cara’s arms and reached out for the woman and child.

“I’m not gonna put the helmet back on yet. I want him to get used to my face so he doesn’t have a meltdown every time he happens on me without the helmet. Do you think you could hold him a bit longer, with your eyes closed, and indulge us both?”

“Um, sure?” Cara’s voice is uncertain. Suddenly, she felt Mando's arms enveloping her and the child. Cara was startled but remembered her promise. Without her sight her other senses where heightened and she felt herself being turned around and dragged towards Mando’s chest.

Cara allowed herself to be manhandled so that she was sitting flush against Mando’s chest with both her arms around the child. She felt Mando’s right hand at her corresponding shoulder. His thumb was pressing into the back of her neck and the rest of his fingers kept a firm, but gentle, grip on her shoulder and neck forcing her to face away from him should she accidentally open her eyes. His touch was not aggressive or domineering. Quite the opposite as he rubbed soothing circles into her neck with his thumb. His left arm was wrapped firmly around her and the child. She could feel his left hand stroking the child’s back just above where she held the little creature close to her chest.

The next thing Cara felt was the complete slacking of Mando’s body against the wall. His beard tickled her left ear where his chin was nuzzled against her shoulder. The three of them sat like that in silence listening to their combined breathing for several minutes until the child began to wriggle and stretch.

Cara then heard a delighted shriek from the child and the sound of tiny hands slapping flesh. Mando chuckled, and Cara guessed he was letting his small charge explore his human face with all the vigour a grabby toddler could muster. The contented noises from both man and child lulled Cara and she was happy to focus on the feel of Mando’s thumb at the base of her neck.

Cara had almost started to drift off when she heard a yelp from Mando.

“You okay?” Cara asked whipping around quickly eyes still shut tight.

Dyn looked down at her upturned face. “Yeah he just grabbed my mustache and pulled is all.”

A bubble of laughter left Cara’s throat, and she reached in the general direction she thought the child might be in. Dyn watched as her hand caught the air near his mouth missing the child entirely. Cara laughed again and patted her fingers to his lips trying to feel her way toward the gurgling child. For one millisecond Dyn had a wild urge to trap her hand against his mouth and lay kisses on each of her fingertips, but he caught himself and settled for guiding her hand to the youngster.

“Gentle Little Man,” Cara said when she managed to capture one of child’s tiny hands. “Be gentle.”


	2. The Second Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a show about parenting. Get into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas err'body!!!
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by the fact Taika Waititi is directing the next episode and he is not a creator to shy away from the beauty and heart in the more mundane sides of life. So, get on board and sing along in IG-11's robotic Kiwi voice (you'll see). Don't act like Taika wouldn't put a funny musical interlude in every thing if he could. He is the "Unofficial Third Conchord" in Flight of the Conchords.
> 
> Copyright for the song goes to whoever wrote it. No idea.

Dyn Jarren is a Mandalorian and a bounty hunter. He has been in plenty of stand offs. He didn’t start them all, but he did finish each one. Usually while uttering, “I can take you in hot or I can take you in cold.” Dyn knew many ways to make an opponent comply with his demands. Unfortunately, he had found himself in a stand off that could not be resolved by his usual methods.

Dyn sighed the sigh of one who is well and truly put upon and faced down his tiny opponent. Dyn Jarren, Mandalorian, feared bounty hunter, fastest draw in the Galaxy was now kneeling in front of the vacc-tube of his ship, the _Razor Crest_ , while holding a small, green, toddler over the vacc seat. The child was old enough to, and capable of, using the vacc for its intended use, but he stubbornly refused to do so.

“We’ve been here for twenty-five minutes now kid,” Dyn said while holding the naked child on the seat cover. “It’s time to shit or get off the pot.”

The youngster had, up until that moment, spent the better part of the last half hour either sitting like a statue staring Dyn down or actively struggling against his caretaker’s hold while vocalizing his discontent. Now, the child seemed to believe Dyn was offering him a choice. Shit or get off the pot, and the little one had decided on the latter, thank you very much.

“I wasn’t offering you a free pass kid,” Dyn said guessing where the child’s thinking was going. “You stay here until you drop one. Got it?”

The child folded his tiny arms together and let out an angry sound.

“I’m not thrilled to be here either you know.”

The child just yelled louder.

Dyn sighed again and looked up to the ceiling asking the Maker for patience. He took several deep breaths through his nose and tried to remember the kid is a kid, and as the adult it was Dyn’s job not to devolve to the child’s level. Dyn had just about reined in his baser instincts when he heard a sound that was guaranteed to set him even further on edge.

The hatch above the ladder to the cockpit slid open and Dyn heard the unmistakeable sound of jerking metallic steps descending the ladder and heralding the presence of IG-11 below deck. Dyn listened closely to try and determine where the droid was headed. He sent another silent prayer to the Maker. This time he prayed IG-11’s intent was to go make Cara’s life hell in the galley.

Dyn may have also mumbled a few times under his breath, “Burst into flames, burst into flames, please Maker, make him burst into flames.”

Clearly, the Maker wasn’t answering prayers because IG-11 chose to lurch its way over to where the Mandalorian was kneeling in front of the open door to the vacc. Dyn’s head dropped in defeat, as the child let out a happy coo at the sight of the droid.

“New Master,” the droid began only to be cut off by Mando.

“Not your Master.”

If droids could demonstrate exasperation IG-11 would have done so. Instead it began to speak again. “New Master, if I may be of assistance –

“You can’t.”

The droid tried again. “If I may be of assistance, my Former Master-may he rest in freedom-programmed me with many protocols specific to the rearing of young ones. No doubt one of these protocols-

Dyn looked up while blowing out a frustrated breath. “Here we go again with the kriffing protocols.”

“Offer the child a reward New Master,” IG-11 suggested.

“Excuse me?” Dyn raised his head to face the droid. IG-11 could not see its New Master’s face, but the tilt of the man’s helmet and the tone of his voice smacked of incredulity.

IG-11 indicated toward the child who was now kicking his chubby legs and cooing; happy to have his caretaker distracted from bullying him into making potty.

“Offer the Young Master a reward in return for defecating.” The droid elaborated.

“Here's the thing about rewards droid. You have to earn them,” Dyn replied. “So far all the womp rat has done today is stubbornly refuse to shit in the vacc even though he can and should. He's chosen instead to shit his swaddling repeatedly. And I don't know if you've noticed, but the _Crest_ doesn't have a laundry suite.”

“Oh goodness! And here I thought it was only me who noticed and was concerned. I have many ideas I would be thrilled to share with you regarding how our shared living space could be improved. I-

“Shut up.” Dyn cut the droid off and added inability to understand sarcasm to the long list of reasons he should put IG-11 down for good. Dyn closed his eyes and let a long breath out through his nose. Kuiil had said the thing could learn.

_Trust my work_ , the Ugnaught’s words echoed through Dyn’s skull. _I have a name, it’s Kuiil_. Dyn looked down at the child and then back at the droid. “You really wanna help me droid?”

“It is what I am programmed to do,” IG-11 stated.

“Fine, go and get me all the kid’s toys,” Dyn said. “And a storage container with a lock.”

Dyn paused for several beats. “You know the round knob on stick shift?”

“Yes.”

“Unscrew it from the stick and bring that too.”

“Very well.”

The droid stomped away to carry out its New Master’s instructions. Dyn turned back to the indignant toddler on the vacc seat.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us kid,” Dyn said slowly in the voice he usually reserved for recalcitrant bounties. “So, what you gotta ask yourself now is, am I feeling lucky? Are you kid? Are you feeling lucky?”

The child blew a raspberry at him.

“Right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

IG-11 returned with the child’s belongings and a storage container. The droid sat the storage container down next to its New Master and placed the toys on top of it. Dyn surveyed the small collection of valuables; it contained a stuffed toy shaped like a blue krill, a contraption made of sticks, shiny beads, and string Winta had rigged up for the kid on Sorgan, the soft blue blanket Omera had knit for the kid, and the greatest prize of all…the metal knob from the stick shift.

After losing his parents, Dyn never had much to call his own as a child, but that didn’t stop him from deeming his kid’s pile of treasures to be woefully meager. Dyn’s mood did not improve with this observation. Would he ever stop feeling like he was failing as a caretaker? At moments like this, Dyn felt like he was running to stand still. He steeled himself for what he had to do next.

Dyn moved the toys to a space on the floor between his knees and the vacc. The child followed Dyn’s movements with wary eyes. Dyn picked up Winta’s contraption and dangled it in front of the kid’s face. Immediately, the little one’s eyes lit up and he raised his chubby arms to grab at the toy.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Dyn spat out while whipping the toy away from the child. “No toys unless you poop in the vacc. Got it? Do. You. Understand? You want your toys? You do a poop.”

Dyn placed the toy into the storage box. The child made a noise of disbelief. Dyn picked up the krill and blanket. These items were higher stakes. The kid slept with them. His tiny claws wrapped tightly round both nightly like his life depended on them.

The child squealed. He had figured out where this game was going and did not like its trajectory. Two large brown eyes peered up at Dyn and filled with tears. Dyn resisted the urge to lay the world at the child’s feet in return for a smile.

IG-11 watched the Young Master’s adorable little face crumple and his tiny little chin wobble. It was too much for a droid reprogrammed for loyalty and protection.

“New Master, if I may make a suggestion?” IG-11 began hesitantly. It was torn between pleasing its New Master and the agony of disappointing the Young Master via its part in this undertaking. “Perhaps it would be wise to consider the differences that can exist between an incentive and a reward.”

“I know the difference droid,” Dyn replied while stuffing the soft toy and blanket into the storage bin. “Rewards are for womp rats who do what they are told. Otherwise, an incentive is required.”

The child watched his most treasured possessions disappear into the container and burst into tears. He dropped his small face into his tiny hands and let out a wail.

If droids could wish, IG-11 would have wished it still possessed a self-destruction function.

*************************************************************************************

On the other side of ship-because one should not shit where one eats- Cara Dune was scrubbing the galley down with anti-bacta liquid when she heard the child’s cries. If Cara had any patience left those pathetic sobs would have engendered the fellow feeling IG-11 was experiencing with the child. But, Cara was tired. So damned tired.

Since making their getaway from Nevarro she and Mando had not settled on where next to land to regroup. Which meant the two adults were alternating sleeping in the pilot seat or Mando’s bunk. Cara was used to rough sleeping, but she’d never had the added burden of a child to look after while doing so. She supposed she could leave all the parenting to Mando. The kid was more his than hers after all, but their shared space was small, and it didn’t make sense not to pitch in. One day without a shared effort between herself, Mando, and the droid would allow the kid to destroy the interior of the ship while shitting his pants and flying them off course.

Plus, Cara loved the kid. She really did. She wouldn’t have signed up for this gig otherwise. Love didn’t make caring for the child any less exhausting. Especially when they were constantly in space. It was always dark, and it was throwing everyone’s-minus the droid-sleep pattern off. They were surviving on rations which filled the kid up, but also made him shit himself from one end of his robes to the other. Which was exactly what had happened a half hour ago.

Mando had taken the kid to the vacc-tube and she had been put on laundry duty. The kid’s swaddling and robe were now clean and rinsed. Cara had hung them near the engine panels to dry. Now she was cleaning the galley, the only place she’d been able to find a bucket and water for laundry, of any possible remnants of toddler fecal matter. All she wanted was a decent bed and to sleep for a week, but from the sounds coming from the vacc-tube that was not going to happen.

Cara tossed a clean rag over her shoulder and went to investigate the potty adventure.

*************************************************************************************

What Cara found made her both livid and a little scared. Mando was crouched in front of the vacc with one hand on the child to anchor the little creature to the vacc seat, and the other hand was trying to capture a storage box that was now levitating and slamming against the ladder to the cockpit. IG-11 appeared to be ineffectually attempting to negotiate between Mandalorian and child. The kid was both yelling nonsense and crying, while Mando told the child what for and flailed at the storage box.

“What is going on here?” Cara demanded loudly.

The storage box landed at her feet. Mando and the child both turned to look at her.

“This little delinquent,” Mando used his free hand to point at the child. “Refuses to shit in the vacc. We’ve been here since his last blow out in his pants.”

The child pointed back at his caretaker and let out a long string of accusations that sounded like, “Dah! Dah! Dah! Daaaaaah!”

Cara looked at IG-11.

“It appears the Young Master is having difficulties defecating, and-

Mando didn’t let the droid finish, “He isn’t having difficulties defecating. He is refusing to shit. Despite the fact he’s in danger of sneezing a turd out he’s so full up.”

“Have you tried the protocol IG has? The pooping one?” Cara asked.

Mando tilted his head in response.

Cara cricked her neck and willed herself not to kick Mando’s tin ass around the ship. “He isn’t a terrorist or a bounty Mando. He’s a kriffing baby! You have to negotiate with him!”

“You call that protocol negotiating? It’s not negotiation it’s-

“It works!” Cara yelled throwing her hands up. “Move!” she indicated for Mando to relinquish his place in front of the vacc and attempted to get closer to the child. When her shin hit the storage box Cara also wished IG-11 still had a self-destruct function. _Maker end it all. Just spare us this torture_.

“Why is there a storage box in front of the ladder?” she whined trying not to curse too much in front of the child.

“The New Master thought locking the Young Master’s toys in the box and threatening to quote-jettison them into space-unquote might incentivize the Young Master to defecate.”

Cara’s nostrils flared. She stared at Mando then she peered at the box meaningfully. Mando sighed and slapped the code into the box’s interface. It sprang open to reveal the child’s toys, and the knob to the stick shift.

Cara looked back up at Mando. “Really?” She asked. “Really?”

“Fine! You think you can do better? Here!” Mando pulled the child off the vacc seat and held him out to her.

“Well I can’t do much worse!” she yelled. Cara took the child into her arms and stood out of the way so Mando could vacate the space in front of the vacc seat.

The Mandalorian stalked around Cara, the child, and IG-11. “I’ll be in the cockpit.” He bit out before ascending the ladder.

“Okay great! I’ll just handle everything will I?” Cara called after him.

The only answer she got was the sliding hum of the cockpit door opening and closing. Cara looked down at the dejected child in her arms.

“Alright Little Man, time to do your poop.” She said in a bright and cheery voice despite feeling neither bright nor cheery. “IG, go get me a pan of warm water. Not hot enough to burn his skin. Warm.”

“Right away Ms. Cara!” the droid replied and pivoted toward the galley.

Cara held the child with one arm and used her other hand to pull the toys out of the box. She closed the box and sat down on it with the kid on one knee and his treasures on the other. The kid immediately reached for the stuffed krill and squashed it to his face.

“I know buddy. Mando was mean hey?” Cara wrapped the blanket around the kid’s shoulders. “You’re probably getting cold too. Been sitting around in the altogether for awhile now hey?”

The child sniffed in response and cuddled his krill while gently rocking it. Cara smiled and rocked the youngster herself. IG-11 returned with the pan of water.

“You know what to do,” Cara said to the droid.

“Indeed,” IG-11 replied while holding the pan over the vacc seat.

Cara then arranged the blanket so it was secured around the child’s shoulders and would not slip down into the water. She held the little green creature by his armpits. The child kept a death grip on the krill. Cara lowered the child until his little bum hit the water. The child let out a couple of surprised trills and then a happy coo.

“Yeah you like that don’t you buddy?” Cara asked. “Nothing like a little bit of warm water on the tushie to stimulate the poop shoot hey?”

The baby smiled up at her and gurgled his agreement. Cara knelt in front of him and let the child alternatively drag the stuffed toy or his free hand over her face, clavicle, and breasts. She didn’t know why the child did this, but it seemed to soothe him whenever he did.

“IG? Sing the song.”

The droid waited for the song to load in its vocal coil and replied, “My pleasure.”

_“So what the heck_ _  
were you thinking  
its gotta come out  
no reason to pout  
  
I can’t believe  
you’re embarrassed  
pooping is fun  
just flush when you’re done  
  
its a well known fact  
a simple natural act  
it must pass through your tract  
on the daily  
on the daily  
  
everybody poops  
everybody poops  
everybody poops  
eventually  
  
it might be stuck  
constipation  
fiber’s the trick  
to making it slick  
  
or possibly  
diarrhea  
its all leaky and wet  
you’re stuck on the toilet  
  
you’re waiting in the queue  
your face is turning blue  
you must go number two  
  
in a hurry  
  
everybody poops  
everybody poops  
everybody poops  
eventually  
  
girls poop  
and boys poop  
and dogs poop  
and cats poop too  
you know its true  
  
big turds  
and wet turds  
and small turds  
and round turds too  
float in the loo  
  
moms poop  
and dads poop  
and whales poop  
and you poop too  
you know you do  
  
its sloppy  
and icky  
and stinky  
and drippy too  
its not taboo”_

As the droid sang Cara rocked back and forth humming along. The child’s face went from delighted to furrowed. He placed his free hand just above Cara’s left breast and shoved his krill filled hand against her neck. Cara smiled. This meant lift off. The child shook briefly, and with an impossibly small toot from his rear regions he let drop an impossibly big poop. Fully evacuated he smiled up at Cara with a dopey grin.

Cara couldn’t help the bark of laughter she let out. “You men are all the same huh? Cumming and shitting are your two favourite things.”

If droids could make faces that conveyed one shouldn’t use the words “cumming” or “shitting” in front of a child IG-11 would have. Instead, it settled on congratulating the Young Master on a job well done.

“I will take care of this,” the droid said indicating to the pan. “You see to the Young Master.”

Cara reached for the rag still slung over her shoulder. She used it to clean the child’s bottom and re-wrapped him in the blanket. His robes were still drying. She stuffed Winta’s contraption in her bra and placed the knob for the stick shift in her back pocket. The child held his krill close.

Cara climbed the ladder to the cockpit. She hit the button to open the door and surveyed the scene in front of her. Mando was sitting in the pilot seat, elbows on his knees, staring at the flight controls.

“I’m sorry,” he said as she stepped into the cockpit. “I’m just tired I think.”

Cara carried the child towards him. “Yeah well, I am too. Tired I mean. I’m not sorry just so you know.”

Cara handed the child to Mando. “Here. He shat. He’s clean. I’m going somewhere else on the ship for a bit. You are not going to disturb me. Understood?”

“Yeah.”

Warriors know when to fight and when to flee and Mando is a warrior.

Cara pulled Winta’s contraption from her shirt and the knob from her back pocket and slapped them down on the dashboard. “You might need these,” she said before taking her leave to “somewhere”.

*************************************************************************************

Dyn did his best to give Cara her space for the next few hours, but the _Crest_ was not a big ship. Finally, after redressing, feeding, and entertaining the kid, with the ever-present IG-11 for assistance Dyn decided to give Kuiil’s work a chance to prove itself.

“Listen droid,” _It has a name_ , Dyn heard a familiar voice in his head. “…IG can you put the kid to bed and watch him for a couple of hours?”

If IG-11 could have displayed excitement and gratitude it would have. “Of course, New Master! I can mind the child for the duration of his sleep cycle if you would like.”

Dyn waved a hand dismissively. “No, just a few hours. Here’s the plan-

*************************************************************************************

Dyn found Cara nursing a flagon of tea and her bad mood in the galley area.

“Gotta minute?” he asked her.

“For what?” Cara’s voice was laced with suspicion.

“Follow me.”

She didn’t move.

Mando huffed. “It’s a surprise okay?”

“A good one?” Cara asked. “Or another explosive shit?”

“A good one. Way better than a blow out I promise.”

“Fine,” Cara set her flagon in sink. “Lead on.”

Dyn walked her into the area that contained his bunk and belongings. Blankets and pillows from Sorgan- no doubt Omera’s craftsmanship-were piled on the bunk. One blanket even hung over a wire he had strung up over the bed. It partitioned the bed in half.

Cara eyed the set up in front of her before turning to look at Dyn with her eyebrows raised.

“Look, it occurred to me that I am really tired. More tired than I think I have ever been in my life. And I’ve fought a Mudhorn,” Dyn tried to explain the setting in front of them. “I think we both need to rest. And then figure out where in the Galaxy we are parking this tin can for a bit before one of us commits a murder suicide. I know this isn’t ideal, but the bunk is big enough for both of us if we huddle up.”

Cara’s grin could only be described as shit eating. “Is this you coming onto me Mando? Because listen, I’ve been to war and it wasn’t half as exhausting or shit-filled as the last 72 hours so it’s gonna take a lot more than a rigged-up love palace to get me to put out.”

Behind his helmet Dyn’s smile split his face. “Very funny. Just a reminder every minute you spend making jokes the fewer minutes we have to sleep before the tiny tyrant is awake and demanding to be provided with the basic necessities to live.”

Cara’s response was to climb onto the side of the bunk that faced the entrance way. “He is a strict-but cute-dictator isn’t he?”

Dyn watched her make herself comfortable before he sat on the end of the bunk that was partitioned off by the hanging blanket. He began removing his armour. “Yeah, he is.”

Dyn flopped back on the bunk before taking off his helmet. He sat it carefully next to his head. Once Cara seemed settled he powered down the lights using the controls on his gauntlet. Dyn then removed his gauntlets and gloves and stuffed them into his overturned helmet.

He looked up at the ceiling and spoke. “I am sorry about earlier.”

Cara rolled onto her side and peered at the blanket separating the pair. “I know, but you did decide to take on a child Mando. Sometimes you’re going to have to treat him like one.”

Dyn pinched his nose and brow with his fingers. “I know, I know. I’m just…

_Maker, how should he say this? Could he say it out loud and still keep going?_

Dyn rubbed his eyes and fixated on the ceiling again. “The world…is not…it’s not a great place for a kid. I don’t know most of the time if the kid is even better off with me.”

Cara propped her head up on her elbow. “You know he is! Anything is better than being a slave or experiment to the Empire!”

His reply sounded distance behind the blanket. “Yeah, but the kid -any kid- deserves better than just anything. But if I’m too soft with him…what happens if I lose him again? He has to be able to take care of himself.”

Cara felt tears well up in her eyes uncontrollably. _Shit_ , she thought, _I really am tired_. She reached a hand under the blanket hanging between them and sought out Mando’s hand.

Dyn watched her hand search around under the partition and he slowly reached one hand towards it. As he silently slipped his palm into Cara’s he thought _, Shit, I really am tired_.

“We won’t lose him again,” she said from the other side of the curtain. “You and the kid aren’t in this alone you know? Or at least you don’t have to be.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mando’s reply sounded like he had swallowed a large object before speaking.

Cara squeezed his hand. “You’re welcome.”

His only response was to pull their conjoined hands onto his chest. Cara fell asleep to the feel of his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand.

Several hours later IG-11 found them in the same position. Its scanners told it both humans were still deep in REM sleep. The child was also peaceful in his floating pram at its side. IG-11 decided to take its young charge back to the galley area for the duration of the sleep cycle. It was no trouble to it, and its New Master and Ms. Cara required the rest.

************************************************************************************

“Greetings Young Master! Welcome back to the world of the waking.” IG-11 said eight hours later as the child awoke.

The droid took its time running through the child’s morning routine protocol as quietly as possible and then engaged the youngling in some developmental play exercises. Eventually however, it became clear to IG-11 the child would like to spend time with his human caretakers. The child kept turning an inquisitive eye towards the sleeping quarters.

“I suppose I can let you fetch New Master and Ms. Cara if you promise to be quiet about it,” the droid said and placed a metal digit against its head. “Remember, shhhhhhhh!”

The child put a finger to his own lips, giggled, and blew a noise through his little teeth that sounded like, “thiiiiish” before waddling away to find his caretakers.

The child found his new caretaker- with the soft outsides he liked to run his hands over and long hair he liked to pull on- lying on the bunk usually occupied by his favourite being in the whole Galaxy; the child’s favourite caretaker with the hard outsides he could see his reflection in, and the fur on his face the child found both enticing and scratchy.

Once the child had climbed onto the cot, he realized it contained two beings. His favourite caretaker’s arm was sticking out from behind a floating blanket and was wrapped tightly around the new caretaker’s midsection. The child observed that his favourite caretaker seemed to like pawing the new caretaker’s soft outsides too. The child couldn’t blame him. The soft outsides were a great source of comfort.

The child climbed over his favourite caretaker’s arm and under the blanket partition. He tried very hard to be very quiet; just as the funny metal being had advised him to proceed. The child sat on his favourite caretaker’s shoulder and wondered how to wake the man silently. The little one watched the man take steady breaths in and out of his nose.

The child stared at the man’s nose and then looked at his own tiny hand. The child then stuck a finger up the nose of his favourite being in the entire Galaxy.

*************************************************************************************

One moment Dyn Jarren, Mandalorian, feared bounty hunter, fastest draw in the Galaxy was floating in the deepest sleep he’d gotten since Sorgan. The next a toddler was getting the drop on him. Dyn’s eyes flew open, and before he could force himself into battle readiness, he let out an undignified shout and squeezed one hand down on something soft and warm in his hand. Cara was the next to startle awake and she rolled away from whatever-or whomever- was trying to give her a tiity twister.

From the galley IG-11 called, “If everyone is awake now I have prepared a hot first meal!”


	3. The Third Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Din Djarin has a religious epiphany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone sorry this took so long! Christmas man...what day is this?

_“What is more beautiful, my love? Love lost or love found? Don’t laugh at me, my love. I know it, I’m awkward and naive when it comes to love, and I ask questions straight out of a pop song. This doubt overwhelms me and undermines me, my love. To find or to lose?_

_All around me, people don’t stop yearning. Did they lose or did they find? I can’t say. An orphan has no way of knowing. An orphan lacks a first love, a love for his mama and papa. That’s the source of his awkwardness, his naiveté._

_You said to me, on that deserted beach in California, “you can touch my legs.” But I didn’t do it. There my love, is love lost. That’s why I’ve never stopped wondering since that day, where have you been and where you are now? And you, shining gleam of my misspent youth, did you lose or did you find? I don’t know, and I will never know. I can’t even remember your name, my love. And I don’t have the answer._

_But this is how I like to imagine it, the answer. In the end, my love, we have no choice. We have to find.”_

  * Pope Pius XIII, “The Young Pope” by Umberto Contarello & Paolo Sorrentino



The B’omarr Monastery on the planet Teth was a sight to behold. The structure had been built out of stone on top of the jungle planet’s highest mesa by the B’omarr Order in the time of legends. The temple looked particularly striking at night as the two moons of Teth rose over the monastery’s spires.

If IG-11 had been a human, the droid might have stood before the temple and said something like, “I never thought I’d live to see the resurrection of the B’omarr Order”. But, IG-11 was not alive it was simply functional, and the rag tag group of young men with hopes to restore the monastery and some day become the new B’omarr Order were still walking around with their brains in their heads.

The monks of old had their brains removed from their bodies once they had become “enlightened”. The brains were placed in nutrient filled jars and tended day and night by the lower ranked monks who were still “embodied”. The monks believed cutting off any and all physical sensation from the brain allowed one to reach enlightenment. 

As a droid, IG-11 could almost understand the B’omarrs’ striving for physical nothingness, but it also had no experience with emotions and bodily functions. Truthfully, IG-11 envied living beings a little bit precisely because they could feel, and bleed, and even metaphorically bleed with feelings. Then again, IG-11 might have been better able to enjoy his stay at the monastery if the beings it was programmed to protect were not currently at odds with one another because of their emotions.

IG-11 heard a soft cooing and turned away from the window from which it had been watching the moon’s rise. Beside the droid, its young charge, a small green alien, sat in its pram cuddling a krill shaped soft toy. The child stared up at IG-11 and made noises which IG-11’s scanners told it were of an inquisitive and concerned nature.

The droid knelt to be at the pram’s level. IG-11’s programming stated it is important to communicate with young ones on their physical plane. “Yes, Young Master, I understand you are concerned about New Master and Ms. Cara, but they are not in danger. They are simply located in another geographical area. For instance, Ms. Cara is in the room next to this one recovering from today’s events. New Master is with our ship on the jungle floor.”

IG-11 considered making the moment a teachable one by explaining the difference between mesas, canopies, and the floor level of jungles to the child, but the baby made another distressed sound.

“What is the New Master doing outside so late at night?” IG-11 considered how best to answer the child’s concerned trills. Being capable only of the truth the droid replied, “New Master is pretending to do repairs on the ship so that he can repress the mental and physical turmoil the day’s events have caused him.”

The child let out a world-weary sigh and tossed his plushie to the floor with exasperation.

IG-11 retrieved the krill and tucked it back into the pram. “Yes, quite,” it agreed with the child’s assessment of their current situation.

*************************************************************************************

Din Djarin surveyed the pile of supplies in front of him. Stopping over on Teth resulted in the acquisition of more numerous, and varied, supplies than a group of misfits on the run from the Empire could usually hope to beg, borrow, or steal. Din was unable to rejoice, despite the windfall sitting in front of him. The boon had come at a high price. Din did not regret his actions, but he could not help wishing the day had gone far differently.

Teth was supposed to be mostly abandoned. Once, the planet had been home to an order of holy men who had built their temples on its mesas. When the monks abandoned Teth for Tatooine the Hutts had converted the temples into lavish pleasure palaces. The planet’s location in deep Wild Space meant the Empire was more than ambivalent about its existence. The Hutts’ presence had attracted smugglers who built settlements during the Clone Wars, but Din had heard the place was empty since the Hutts had vacated it.

Just like on Sorgan, Din couldn’t catch a break. The Hutts were gone, but apparently some wannabe B’omarr revivalists had taken up residence on the planet. The young men had occupied the main monastery peacefully for a time, but then found themselves running afoul of a band of smugglers who also laid claim to the temple. Din had planned to load Cara, the kid, and the droid back onto the _Razor Crest_ moments after discovering the young philosophers and hearing their tale of woe.

Unfortunately, the tale of woe ended with a plea for help from the monks, and a promise Din and his crew could take all the smugglers’ supplies and goods as payment. The job should have been an easy one. Should have been, but it wasn’t.

The sound of footsteps broke Din out of his revelry. One of the monks was approaching the _Razor Crest_. Din recognized the young man, but he did not know the monk’s name. The would be B’omarrs refused to tell anyone their names. Names were not necessary to a group of people striving for disembodied enlightenment.

“Greetings Mandalorian!” the monk called.

Din nodded at the young male human. Many of the monks were humanoid, just as many were not. All of them wore flowing black robes and odd pointed hats. Din was not sure what purpose the hat was meant to serve, but he was in no place to question another’s religious garb. Underneath the hat, the young man’s long hair trailed behind him as he held out a hand for Din to shake.

“What can I do for you?” Din asked while shaking the monk’s hand. He hoped offering his service would hasten his exchange with the young man. Din needed to get back to loading the _Razor Crest_ , banging angrily on the ship’s insides, and avoiding the mess he’d made of his life.

The young man sat on a storage chest. Din sighed. Clearly, the monk planned on staying awhile.

“Nothing my friend,” the young man said. “I come only to thank you for restoring our holy place to me and my brothers and to ask if I may return your kindness by helping you load your bounty.”

Din preferred to work alone, but he also suspected if he didn’t put the youth to work the monk would want to talk. Din was not in the mood to be social and forced conversation would just slow him down.

“Sure,” Din pointed at a pile of smaller boxes the monk could easily lift. “Put those in the galley.”

“Right away!” the young man replied and saluted Din.

Din turned away and picked up a larger chest due for the cargo hold. The monk followed Din up the ramp and into the _Crest_. Mercifully, the young man followed directions easily, and the two men worked compatibly for the better part of an hour before Din noticed the monk seemed to be slacking off and hovering around him tentatively.

“Looks like this is the last of it,” the monk said before sitting on the final box that needed storing.

“Yeah it is,” Din said. “But it’s not gonna lift itself.”

“Right, right of course,” the young man hopped off the crate and hefted it up before heading towards the _Crest’s_ ramp.

When the monk returned from inside the ship Din was already headfirst into a repair on the thrusters. The Mandalorian hoped that literally turning a cheek to the holy man would make the kid take a hint.

“May I ask you a question?” the monk asked while sitting cross legged on the ground.

Clearly, the monk didn’t take hints well.

“You can,” Din replied, his voice muffled by the ship’s guts around him.

The monk was going to ask him questions; better to get it over with as quickly as possible.

“How long has it been since you swore the Mandalorian creed?” the monk asked.

“What do you know of the Mandalorian creed?” Din countered, still face first in the ship’s innards.

“Not as much as a Mandalorian I am sure. Forgive me if my question was impertinent,” the young man said while picking at a thread on his robes. “I have read much about the Galaxy’s many creeds. I have always been somewhat of a seeker. My yearning for a higher truth, a spiritual pathway if you will, is what led me here to my brothers.”

“Why do you want to know how long it has been since I swore the oath?” Din asked.

“I am the newest recruit amongst my brothers. I believe in my brothers’ goal to restore the Order. I am committed to doing what it takes to become enlightened and to leave this body and physical sensation behind.”

Din sensed the “But,” before the kid spoke it.

“But I find myself with questions that gnaw at me. My brothers do their best to give me answers…but their answers are lacking because they seem to have no doubts about the righteousness of our path.”

Din turned to look down at the monk. He tucked the serodriver he’d been using to tinker with the ship into his armour and leaned against the _Crest_. Din could spare a few minutes for another man of faith.

“I swore the oath when I came of age. By Basic reckoning I was thirteen years old,” Din told the young monk. “That was almost thirty years ago.”

“Have you ever regretted it?” the monk asked.

Din thought for a moment. “No. But, I’d be lying if I said I’ve never wondered what my life would have been like if I’d never become a Mandalorian.”

“Yes, I think it is common amongst all people of faith to wonder where an alternate path may take one,” the monk replied. “I suppose we keep to our paths despite the sacrifices it asks of us because the benefits of doing so outweigh the alternative.”

Din had no real answer for the monk’s query. He didn’t regret becoming a Mandalorian, but life had not given him an alternative option. Still, his creed had given him a family, a purpose, and made him part of a collective history; these were no small rewards.

“I suppose so,” Din said in the absence of anything more profound to offer the young man.

“Have you ever broken faith with your creed?” the monk asked.

The conversation was getting a bit abstract for Din. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific kid.”

“Have you ever committed a forbidden act?”

Din closed his eyes and sighed. The kid had no way of knowing how today had played out, but this was the last question he wanted to answer right now. Din could still smell the swampy jungle water clinging to his armour and helmet.

“Yes,” he answered the monk’s question truthfully.

The monk’s eyes widened as he asked, “What did you do?”

“I did what was necessary,” Din replied.

“Would you do it again?”

“Yes.”

*************************************************************************************

The job should have been easy. Din, Cara, and IG-11 versus less than six smugglers who had not expected any presence on the planet but the monks. The job had started smoothly and progressed even better. Din, Cara, and the droid had successfully - or so they thought - put down the smugglers and liberated three land speeders full of supplies when things went bad.

One of the smugglers had survived the battle, and while he couldn’t take on all three of the newcomers who had decimated his colleagues, he could take out at least one of them in a final ride. The smuggler used his land speeder to take out Cara’s vehicle sending her and the speeder into a swampy lake.

Din had wasted no time taking out the smuggler before parking his speeder and diving into the lake after Cara. What he found amongst the wreckage made his heart turn over. Cara was alive but struggling to get free of the wreckage. Din swam to her side and tried to ascertain what parts of Cara were trapped by what parts of the land speeder.

Din’s helmet allowed him to breath under water, but Cara was not so fortunate. He had to free her before she drowned. Din realized Cara’s left foot was being pinned by the speeder’s brake pedal and he began trying to detach the pedal from the speeder. It became quickly evident he would not be able to pull the brake out of the machine. Shooting it wasn’t an option and pulling on Cara would just injure her foot. The brake or the foot had to go, and Din was not about to attempt an underwater amputation.

Din attempted to signal to Cara that he was going swim to the surface and get a tool to dislodge the brake. His careful signing was cut off by a loud booming sound as the silt beneath the speeder gave way. Din grabbed Cara’s arms and held on as the speeder fell several meters further into the lake. Cara punched his arm and pushed him away. She mouthed the words, “Go”, and “Leave me” at him.

Din shook his head and again pointed to the surface, to himself, and then back at her. Cara shook her head and pointed at the base of the speeder. It was sitting precariously on the edge of a silt shelf. Any sudden movement would take the speeder and the two of them over the shelf and further into the depths of the lake. Cara again yelled at him to leave; bubbles streaming from her mouth. Din clapped his hand over her mouth as roughly as he dared and again shook his head.

Cara looked at him with sad eyes and pushed away from him. She took a huge breath filling her lungs with water and smiled at Din. He watched in horror as her lungs finally protested against the lake water and Cara began coughing while drawing in more and more water. Panic took over her face for several beats, and then hideously there was nothing, just Cara peering straight at him her eyes open wide like a death mask.

Din allowed himself no time to scream or curse. He swam to end of the speeder and attached his grappling line to the back of the land speeder and kicked as fast as he could to the surface. When Din broke the surface IG-11 was on the shore.

“How can I help New Master?” the droid asked.

Din gave him the other end of the grappling line. “Attach this to the sturdiest thing you can find. Have a medpac ready. I have to go back down.”

IG-11 took the grappling line and ran towards a tall tree. The droid did not see its New Master remove his helmet and toss it to the shore. Din watched the helmet sail the few feet to the shore before he took a huge gulp of air and descended into the lake. He swam to Cara and covered her mouth with his own and breathed air into her lungs. Din released the wrist blade on his right gauntlet and went about attacking the brake pedal.

Without his helmet to aid his breathing Din was forced to return to the surface several times before returning to give Cara the kiss of life and fight with the brake pedal. After his third attempt the brake pedal finally snapped off. Din wrapped his arms around Cara and dragged her unconscious form to the surface.

IG was there to help Din pull Cara from the water. Din lay Cara on the shore and yelled at IG-11 for a medpac. The droid knelt next to Cara and observed her blue lips and inability to breath.

“New Master,” it said hesitantly, “A medpac will not be able to clear her lungs.”

Din looked at the droid wild eyed. “She doesn’t die like this droid!”

IG-11 put his hand on Din’s shoulder, “She is already gone New Master. My sensors do not detect a heartbeat.”

“No!” Din screamed.

IG-11 watched as Din used his hands to press on Cara’s chest. The Mandalorian moved to pinch off Cara’s nose and covered her mouth with his own sending a breath of air into her lungs.

“Help me IG!” Din pleaded with the droid. “Keep doing compressions! I’ll give her air!”

The droid did as it was told. The man and the droid continued to coordinate their efforts to save their comrade for several more minutes. As the seconds ticked by Din began to give up hope. He was about to rip his mouth from Cara’s and scream his anguish into the sky when he felt her body spasm and tasted dirty lake water in his mouth.

Din sprang back and watched Cara cough up lake water. IG-11 rolled Cara onto her side until her coughing ceased and she began to take shaky breaths. Din pulled her into his arms and rocked her against his body.

“You’re okay,” he repeated while rocking them both back and forth.

Din was still in shock when Cara lifted a hand to his face. He peered down at her. Cara touched his face gently and rasped out, “It’s you,” before succumbing once again to unconsciousness.

*************************************************************************************

Cara had seen his face. Din had done the forbidden and shown a living being his face. He had also told the monk the truth. Din would make the same choice when faced with the same options. Leaving a loved one to die for the sake of his own honour was not The Way.

“Was it very bad?” the monk asked calling Din’s attention back to the present.

“Was what very bad?”

The monk scrabbled up onto his knees and then stood. “The temptation you gave into was it very bad?”

“I told you. I did what was necessary. There’s a big difference between a need and a want kid.”

“So, you are content with your choice?” the monk asked.

Din took a moment to consider the monk’s question. The truth was he did not regret saving Cara’s life. He also did not regret the fact she had seen his face. The moment she opened her eyes and looked up at him he realized he’d have shown her his face a hundred times to see her breathe again.

“Yes, I am,” Din replied.

“What of the repercussions?” the monk asked earnestly. “Will your clan reprimand you?”

“No,” Din pulled the serodriver out of his armour to keep his hands busy. “None of my clan remain. If they did still live, they would understand that I had no choice.”

_I hope_ , he thought. _You’d do it again in a heartbeat regardless of your clan’s opinion_ , said the traitorous side of his brain.

“Besides,” Din continued. “I have a foundling in my care now. Whatever actions I take now have to be in his best interest; creed or no creed.”

The young monk placed a hand on Din’s shoulder. “Ah yes, children, they are a very corporeal concern. I do not envy you the path you must walk on. My brothers and I are forbidden to have family. It roots one far too much in the here and now. Thank you Mandalorian. Hearing your plight has restored my faith that enlightenment can only be achieved by leaving the physical body and the concerns of the material world behind.”

“Whatever you say kid,” Din replied. “But I’m gonna go with our brains are inside our skulls for a reason.”

“If you care to accompany me on the walk back to temple I can try and change your mind,” the monk said while walking towards the tree line.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Din said and tapped his jet pack. “I’ve got my own ride back. I’ve been gone too long anyway. Need too see a lady about a face.”

*************************************************************************************

When Din arrived back at the monastery he was greeted by IG-11.

“Ms. Cara is awake. She has been for some time now. I left the child in her care. I am going to spend the night exploring the temple’s library or whatever remains of it. It may contain information about the sorcerer clan the child comes from,” the droid explained.

“How is Cara doing?” Din asked.

He chose to ignore the droid’s mention of the library. Din knew it was his duty to try and return the child to its clan, but he found himself unable to face anything right now that hastened the day he would be parted from his charge.

“I believe her strategy is to pretend she did not see your visage today,” IG stated.

Din sighed. “I’ll talk with her.”

“If I might make a suggestion New Master? Bathe first. You look-and I imagine smell-like you are wearing the lake’s contents,” IG-11 said. “The brothers are most helpful and have allowed us to take residence in one of the more lavish suites the Hutts constructed. Running water is available. Apparently, despite being organic in nature the brothers have no need for such luxury. One imagines they smell even worse than you.”

Din left the droid to its explorations and made his way up through the temple’s chambers. He did not take IG’s advice and opted to face Cara and the child rather than bathe. After wandering through the staircases and halls of the monastery somewhat aimlessly – he got the feeling the whole place was constructed to force a wanderer to ascend higher and higher into the temple’s spires – Din asked for direction from a passing monk. The monk steered Din towards a suite at the temple’s highest point while offering thanks to the Mandalorian for liberating the monastery.

Din paused in front of an ornately carved wooden door. The monk told him the carvings depicted the story of how the ancient B’omarrs came to the planet and began their journey towards enlightenment. The monk took his leave, and Din stood in front of the door trying to determine the best way to approach Cara. She and the child had now seen his face. IG-11, while not a living being, had removed Din’s helmet back on Nevarro to save the bounty hunter’s life.

If every being, and a droid, Din had left to call kin had seen his face was he even following The Way anymore? Din took a deep breath before pushing open the door. His mind was crowded with thoughts of telepathic sorcery, his code, and brains in jars seeking higher meaning. He’d been to many planets, met many different beings, and heard all of them sing the different songs of their people. Through it all he had held fast to The Way. If the Galaxy was so vast, and filled with so many different creeds, was The Way the only true path to an honourable life and a warrior’s death?

Din had no answers to the questions that swirled within him. In the moment he passed through the door Din knew only one thing for sure; after nearly 44 years of life, many of them spent travelling the Galaxy, the sight he saw before him now was the holiest thing he had seen.

Cara was standing in front of a window holding the child. She was clad in a black robe borrowed from the brothers, and the child was snuggly swaddled in its blue blanket. The moons of Teth backlit the pair as Cara swayed back and forth smiling at the cooing baby.

Cara looked up at Din and her smile faltered for a beat or two, but she quickly painted it back on.

“Hey, you,” she greeted still swaying by the window like she hadn’t nearly died that day and seen his face.

IG-11, it seemed, had correctly anticipated her game plan.

“Hey,” Din echoed while crossing the room to sit on the bed.

The bed was huge, and luxurious. Clearly an item from the time of Hutt occupation. Din loathed to mar the silk coverings with his filthy armour, but he needed to speak with Cara. He sat down and began shucking off pieces of his beskar.

“Gonna need to give all of this a thorough cleaning,” he said casually hoping to draw Cara out.

Cara swayed towards Din as he continued to unclip his armour.

“You do look like a drowned womp rat,” Cara quipped before thinking better of her choice of words.

“Probably because you almost drowned today and I went in after you,” Din said bluntly while peering up at her through his T-visor.

“Yeah, IG told me all about when I woke up,” Cara said lightly. “Thanks for the rescue. I can’t remember any of our getaway,” she continued while turning to sway away from him.

“Don’t,” Din said softly and grabbed her by the elbow. He pulled on Cara’s arm until she was forced to sit next to him with the child in her lap.

“Don’t pretend you can’t remember seeing my face Cara,” Din said.

Cara rubbed a hand over the baby’s head. The little one was peering back and forth between his caretakers. He sensed something important was going on, but he didn’t know what.

“Isn’t it better if we pretend it didn’t happen?” Cara asked her eyes imploring him to see things her way. “If we do that you get to keep your helmet on, and I don’t feel like shit that you took it off to save my life.”

“No, no I don’t think it is better,” Din replied. “Have you got a good hold on the kid?”

Cara lifted an eyebrow before answering, “Yeah why?”

“He tends to get really excited when I do this,” Din said as he reached underneath his helmet.

“What are you doing Din?” Cara growled.

“What is necessary,” Din countered while pulling off his helmet.

Cara looked like she might bolt. Luckily, the baby’s happy squawks at the sight of its father’s face brought her back to herself. She didn’t want to drop the kid on its head.

Din placed both his ungloved hands on her face and forced her to look him in the eye.

“My name is Din Djarin and I swore the oath of the Mandalore. By right of my creed this child is my son. I have no clan left besides him, and without your help he wouldn’t be here. I’m not sorry I saved your life Cara, or that you saw my face. I’m just grate-

Din paused to collect himself as his voice broke. He pulled Cara and the child into his arms.

“I’m grateful you’re both here and alive,” he mumbled into her hair.

Cara wrapped her free arm around Din. “I’m glad I’m still alive too.” She said against his chest.

Din held the only family he had left and took in several deep breaths getting the sweet smell of bath oils and clean baby. After a few moments the smell of heaven gave way to the distinct odor of swamp.

“IG mentioned there’s a place to bathe in this suite?” he asked tentatively.

Cara pulled away from him and laughed. “Yeah it’s just down that hall,” she said pointing to the right of the bed. “It’s pretty fancy. You should definitely try it out and not just because you smell like a bog. But I will warn you, the only thing we have to wear until our clothes are laundered are these robes.”

Din stood up from the bed. He ran a hand over the child’s ears before cupping Cara’s chin with it.

“I can manage that for a night,” he said before taking his leave for a bath.

*************************************************************************************

Din left the bathroom wearing the brothers’ ridiculous garb. For men who were unconcerned with material needs the monk’s had expensive taste in fabric. Din padded softly into the bedroom and took in the moon lit scene before him. Cara and the child were fast asleep in the depths of a bed that could have housed Jabba the Hutt himself and several slave girls.

Din climbed across the expanse of bedding and curled up next to Cara. He gently lifted the child from her chest and settled the baby in his right arm. Din pulled Cara against him with his left arm and closed his eyes to sleep. Din was not sure this was The Way, but right then, in that moment, he felt at peace with his place in the universe.

_“It's like I've been awakened_   
_Every rule I had you break it_

_It's the risk that I'm taking_   
_I ain't never gonna shut you out_

_Everywhere I'm looking now_   
_I'm surrounded by your embrace_   
_Baby, I can see your halo_   
_You know you're my saving grace”_

-Beyoncé “Halo”


	4. The Fourth Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang is still on Teth and things get smutty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry for the long wait. I have a full time, well more than full time job...all the lawyers in the house throw your hands up (don't shoot us we aren't monsters I promise) and the place I live has been in a state of emergency for more than a week now due to a natural disaster so ya know...life.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter is long, really long, maybe too long, to make up for the wait. And they do it, they finally do it.

_“I don’t want to attack religious people; it feels like a sort of unkind thing to do, to attack religious people, because you know, it’s too easy, and it feels like the battle has already been won._

_But it just seems rude. Like if you’re at a party and someone says, ‘Oh, I’m Christian, I’m a Muslim, I’m a Jew,’ it’s very rude there to say, ‘Oh how ridiculous.’_

_I feel at this point we have to treat people with kindness and love and respect, in the same way you’d treat a child running round a party saying, ‘I’m a helicopter!’_

_And you can say, ‘Good for you. We’re all having fun. I’m a choo-choo train!”_

-Simon Amstell, comedian, openly gay man, secular Jew, and a mensch

_“I’m afraid I don't believe there is such a thing as blasphemy, just outrage from those insecure in their own faith.”_

-Stephen Fry, comedian, writer, author, actor, broadcaster, Renaissance man, and openly gay man…also a mensch

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The two moons of Teth still shared the early morning sky with daybreak when the child awoke. The little one blinked open his huge brown eyes and raised his small, green head to peer into the receding darkness. The child was delighted by what he saw; his favourite caretaker’s face without any hard, shiny outsides obscuring his view. The baby became elated when he discovered more of his surroundings. The child was lying on his favourite caretaker’s chest all swaddled and snug in his soft, blue blanket.

To make matters better, the child’s new caretaker-the one with the long hair he liked to stroke and the soft outsides he liked to touch-was cuddled up to his favourite caretaker’s side. The new caretaker’s head was lying gently on his favourite caretaker’s shoulder which meant her hair was within grabbing distance. The baby let out a happy coo and grabbed a tiny fistful of his new caretaker’s hair. The child rubbed the soft, ebony coloured strands against his face and took a deep breath in. The new caretaker’s familiar scent filled his nostrils and the baby let out a contented sigh.

The child turned his head to the left and rubbed his face against his favorite caretaker’s jawline. He giggled at the stubbly scrape of the man’s beard against his face. The little one buried his face in the man’s neck and took another deep breath. The baby gurgled happily. This was the best place ever, the only place he wanted to be. It smelled and felt like home, and safety, and love, and he would never ever move, or leave, or…he needed to pee. Really badly.

The child knew what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to wake up his caretakers, and alert them to the fact he needed to urinate. Alternatively, he was supposed to find IG-11 who was able to anticipate his every need. The droid would whisk him off to sit on the smooth bowl with swirly water. Sometimes, IG would even let the child pull the stick on the smooth bowl and watch the water go around, and round, and round, and…he still needed to pee.

The child did not want to wake up his caretakers, and he did not want to go find IG. If he did either of those things it would disrupt the current peace. His favourite caretaker would wake up and put on the hard outsides and there would be no more cuddles with the new caretaker. The child would be made to sit on the smooth bowl which was only marginally less scary than the sucking hole on the ship that pulled his pee into space. The child feared someday the sucking hole would pull him out along with his bodily waste into the deepest space.

The child was wearing a cloth nappy which was usual nighttime protocol according to IG. Technically, the child could soil his nappy at times like this; he was just strongly encouraged not to.

It’s a truth universally known that a small child who has been told the rules lacks only a chance to break them.

The baby wriggled out of his swaddling and rolled off his favourite caretaker’s chest and onto the bed. The child’s movement had a domino effect on his caretakers as they both rolled onto their left sides and turned their backs to the little one. Ordinarily, this would have disgruntled the child, but it is also a truth universally known by small children that what happens behind your caretakers’ backs stays behind your caretakers’ backs.

The child let out a satisfied sigh, and a steaming hot piss. He yanked off his wet nappy and dropped it over the side of the bed.

The child crawled around the sleeping forms of his caretakers who now resembled spoons lying side by side. His journey brought him face to chest with his new caretaker, and much to his ever-increasing delight his new caretaker’s soft outsides had become accessible when she rolled over. The baby parted his new caretaker’s robe with his tiny claws and cuddled up to her chest. The little one was rewarded not just with skin to skin contact, but each of his caretakers throwing an arm around him. Yes, this was the best place ever, and he never wanted to leave.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Several hours later, when the sun was high in the morning sky, Din Djarin woke sluggishly from the most peaceful sleep he’d had since, well, since ever. As he woke, Din’s senses slowly became aware of several things at once; he was surrounded by a familiar scent that beckoned him to lean closer to its source, something soft was nestled against his face, and his right arm was wrapped around something warm and solid.

Din opened his eyes and saw nothing but black. He lifted his head and shook off the blackness; it was Cara’s hair. Once Din was able to see freely, he had trouble believing he was awake and not still dreaming. Sure, he’d pulled Cara and the child against him before falling asleep the night before; that didn’t mean he’d expected to wake up spooning Cara with his arm tightly wound around her waist and his traitorous hand splayed open on her bare stomach.

At some point in the night her robe had opened at the neck into a deep vee and it seemed both Din and his child had taken advantage of the situation. The baby was no longer swaddled and lying on Din’s chest where he had placed the child the night before. Now, the little skin hound was butt naked and curled up, face first into Cara’s exposed breasts. Cara, for her part was clutching the baby to her chest with both hands. Din figured, or at least hoped, Cara’s actions meant she was okay with the kid’s placement.

Cara might have welcomed the overly forward attentions of an adorable space baby, but Din was sure she’d be less forgiving of the morning erection he’d apparently pressed against her lower back in his sleep. Din cautiously backed his lower body away from Cara’s and stared at the small of her back like he expected a tell-tale imprint of his dick to appear on her clothing or skin.

Satisfied there was no scarlet penis imprint present to announce his guilt to the world, Din propped himself up on his free arm to fully appreciate his current situation. Cara and the kid both looked wholly at ease with their sleeping arrangements. Din allowed himself a moment to just take in the peace and quiet.

He had never anticipated participating in a moment like this in his life. Moments so wholesome -erection excluded- and domestic were generally beyond the means of a bounty hunter for hire; particularly a bounty hunter from an orthodox Mandalorian sect.

Despite the peace surrounding him, Din was of two minds. One half of him wanted to shut out the world and cuddle back into Cara and his son while yelling, “Mine!” and declaring his intention to fight to the death anyone, and anything, that would threaten his family.

His other half wanted to jump out of the bed like he’d been burned, throw on his beskar, and never return. Neither was the appropriate response for a newly appointed father who was trying to negotiate his relationship with a woman who was the closest thing to a mother his child knew. Never mind the droid Din had to learn to live with, regardless of his feelings towards droids in general.

In the end, Din chose the practical and easiest option; relieving his bladder despite his body’s response to Cara’s presence. He carefully extricated himself from Cara and the child without waking either. When he swung his legs off the side of the bed his left foot encountered something wet and cold. Din looked down to discover he’d stepped in a wet nappy.

Two of Din’s many conundrums were suddenly resolved; why his previously clothed child was naked, and how to urinate with an erection. The answers were, because the tiny hellion had pissed himself and then stripped off and stepping in wet nappies kills even the most ardent erection. Din sighed the sigh of new parents in every Galaxy before collecting the wet nappy, and his helmet. He then escaped to the bathroom.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Din took his time in marbled monstrosity of a bathroom the Hutts had built. He cleaned himself and took the opportunity to rid his helmet of lake gunk. When he returned to the bedroom Cara and the kid were already awake.

Cara had righted her robe and was now lying on her back holding the baby up in the air. She was swinging the little one around while talking nonsense to him. The child shrieked with delight from his place in her hands and splayed his limbs out like a starfish.

“Are you a little X-wing?” Cara asked the baby through her laughter. “Are you?”

The child’s only answer was a peal of giggles followed by a noise that sounded like, “vrooooom!”

Din smiled behind his helmet and leaned against the wall.

“Look who it is!” Cara said to the child. “Look who decided to join us,” she continued while turning the baby to face Din.

The little one had the usual reaction to his father’s presence. He let out of shout of glee and immediately made grabby hands towards Din.

“You ready?” Cara asked Din as she sat up to get in position.

“Always,” Din replied as he pushed off the wall and lowered into a catcher’s stance.

Many people, especially parents, would probably frown on what Cara was about to do next. Indeed, IG-11 had scolded Cara and Din several times after walking in on them performing this little stunt, but the kid loved it, and they hadn’t dropped him yet. That had to count for something.

“You ready?” Cara asked the squirming baby in her arms.

The child let out an affirmative squawk and Cara pulled her arms back before tossing the baby towards Din.

“It’s a baby X-wing!” she yelled as the child sailed through the air before landing neatly in Din’s arms.

After catching the child, Din held the little creature over his head like they’d won a great victory. The baby, as usual, was beside himself with mirth. Din then lowered the child to his chest.

“You aren’t a baby X-wing this morning, are you?” Din asked with mock seriousness while peering hard at the kid’s face from behind his T-visor. “You’re a little piss bandit.”

“What? I didn’t see any evidence of an accident when I woke up,” Cara said. “But this bed is huge, I guess he could have pissed anywhere.”

“Or he could have pissed in his diaper and then taken it off, thrown it on the floor, and left it for me to step in this morning.” Din replied.

“Oh no!” Cara cried while trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry that is awful, but also kinda funny.”

Cara got up from the bed and crossed the short expanse to Din and the kid. She ran her hand over the baby’s ears. “It’s a good thing you’re cute,” she said to the small alien. “Speaking of piss; I need to,” this she addressed to Din. “Is he okay with you while I go freshen up? IG-11 stopped by with clean clothes when you were in the bathroom. We should be able to get out of these robes.”

Din nodded in the affirmative and watched her pick through a stack of folded clothing. Cara located whatever she was looking for and left the man and child alone to begin her morning ablutions.

Din sat the child down on the bed. Better to dress the kid first so he couldn’t wander away while Din hastily pulled on his own clothes. Din looked out the window before choosing anything for the baby. Teth was a jungle planet full of heat and humidity. He had learned in recent days that overheated babies were angry and vocal babies. The sun was splitting the rocks outside so Din chose accordingly.

He rifled about in the small pile of children’s clothing IG had left on a rather ornate dressing table. Din still hadn’t worked out how a Hutt was supposed to sit at the vanity table, or if this piece of furniture had belonged to a favourite slave girl. Either way, the Hutts seemed to have the same décor sense as an aged brothel Madame.

Din chose a sleeveless tunic that hung down to the child’s knees-such as they were-and went about the task of wrestling the baby into it. Once the child was dressed and occupied with a few toys Din pulled on his clean under armour garments. Fully dressed, save his beskar, Din surveyed the room and tried to determine what to do next. The kid needed to be fed, his armour needed to be degunked, he and Cara should probably eat at some point, but then the room could also do with a tidying. As always, Din focused on the kid’s needs first, and everything else second.

Din didn’t see anything the kid could eat at hand, so he scooped the infant up and prepared to find IG-11. The droid would no doubt have food in its nanny bag or know where the food was kept in the temple. Din’s hand was on the doorknob when he heard footsteps pounding towards him.

“Hey!” Cara yelled. “Where do you think you’re taking that baby?”

Din watched her run down the hallway from the bathroom, robe streaming behind her. Underneath the robe Cara was wearing nothing more than a bandeau shaped garment and the smallest pair of shorts Din had ever seen. Both items appeared to be made of the same stretchy black fabric.

He meant to say something about feeding the baby.

What he managed was, “Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?”

Cara stopped a few paces from him and looked herself up and down.

“Yeah, I know it ain’t pretty. Used to wear this stuff to stop nipple and thigh chafing under my armour. It’s hardly a real bathing suit, but beggars can’t be choosers, right? The Brother’s have a nice-looking pleasure garden out there with a series of fountains. Who knows if the Hutts or the original monks put it all in? But it looks like a great place to feed a hungry baby on a sunny day before tossing him in a fountain.”

Din had stopped following her conversation somewhere around the word “nipple”. He tried to formulate a response over the sound of all his blood rushing South.

Cara held her arms out expectantly to him. “You gonna give me the kid or do you wanna wrestle for him?”

Several ideas and images passed through Din’s head in response to her joke. None of them were suitable for a man holding an infant.

“Here,” Din said and held the child out to Cara.

She took the baby and bounced him a little. Din tried to look anywhere but at her directly.

“You’re welcome to join us you know,” Cara said eyeing him warily.

“I know,” Din replied. “I will…I’ll try to. I’ve gotta clean the lake off my armour, and this place could be neater. IG said there may be a library here somewhere. It thinks there could be information about the kid’s people, or the Jedi wizards in the collection. I should probably help it search.”

Cara smirked at him. “Sure. All that’s a good use of time too.” She maneuvered around him with kid. “I’ll get someone to send some food up to you okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Din felt a palpable sense of relief flood him when he realized Cara wasn’t going to push him to join her and the kid on their merry adventure. He opened the door for her and indicated with his hand that she should walk through.

Cara sauntered past him but paused to place a hand on his helmet.

“You know, none of us are expecting you to take the bucket off on the regular just because you did last night,” she said while cupping the lip of his helmet.

Din placed a hand over hers before replying. “I know, and I’m grateful for your understanding. I just need a little time…alone…to reckon with it all.”

Cara gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sure thing. We’ll be out there,” she pointed towards the window on the opposite side of the room. “If you need us come find us.”

Din nodded and watched her walk through the door before shutting it behind her. Once he was sure she and child were long gone Din leaned against the door and took off his helmet. He ran his hands over his face and tried to fight back the clawing panic yelling at him he had betrayed the tenets of his clan and was now without honour.

Din knew rationally no right minded Mandalorian would fault him for saving Cara’s life. But it was world shattering to realize he didn’t know how the Armourer would respond if he told her what he had done. Din’s priority in life since he swore his oath was to follow The Way and to protect his people from extinction. If his reward for saving a life was excommunication, well, that created possibilities he could not fathom. Surely, he had not dedicated his life to a people and creed who would cast him out for his actions taken under duress. Did he want to remain a part of The Tribe if they would be so callous?

Din knew his answer. He knew his answer to his very core, and it tore at him. A man didn’t risk everything for an abandoned child, train villagers to fight off enemies, and dive into a bottomless lake to save a friend because he had no compassion or honour. Din imagined the look his son would have given him if he had left Cara behind. No, maybe, before the child he could have chosen The Way over a loved one, but not now.

_Not ever_ , the lizard part of his brain whispered. _You were raised by them, the ones you can barely remember, to do better. They made the ultimate sacrifice in the hope you would survive, thrive, live, and love._

Din picked up his armour piece by piece and lay it on the floor underneath the window. He grabbed a chair and positioned it next to the window so he could see out, but no one would see him if they looked up. Din went through the bag of his supplies IG had dropped off and found his cleaning materials. He took them to the window and sat down to clean his armour.

He picked up his breast plate and began to polish it.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

By midday, Din had made his armour pristine. He’d eaten the food Cara had sent up to him while watching from the window as she and the child splashed about in the courtyard fountain. The monastery surrounded the garden on all sides, and one could only access the garden from inside the temple walls. Outsiders, at first glance, would never know of the garden’s existence.

Some monks were also in the garden tending to small plots of crops or just lounging in the sun discussing the universe. One Brother was playing a stringed instrument next to the fountain for Cara and the child’s enjoyment. Din did his best to squash a pang of jealousy that rang through him at the sight of Cara and the child interacting with the musical brother.

A man who sought to someday be nothing but a brain in a jar was not likely to have designs on Cara. Din himself could lay no claim to her without making some kind of declaration to her about his own feelings. Staking a claim to another without communication was more dishonourable than taking off his helmet. On that at least, he and the Armourer would agree. Mostly, Din was angry the Brother could so freely interact with the two beings in the Galaxy who meant the most to him.

Din sighed and began putting on his armour. He would be of better use if he joined IG in the library rather than brooding at the window all day.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

After seeking directions from some monks, Din found IG in the depths of the temple. There was indeed a library, but it looked as if it was in complete disarray. Reading tables and chairs were upended, scrolls hung haphazardly from the shelves, columns meant to support the ceiling had toppled over, and the interfaces belonging to the digital archives did not look operational. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.

IG-11 approached its New Master and said, “It appears the Hutts had no use for centuries of knowledge regarding the making of the universe and its history. Typical of organics.”

“How can I help?” Din asked.

“I am working on repairing what I can of the digital archive,” the droid replied. “It is likely the most important and fulsome resource in the library. It is impossible to be sure however, the scrolls may contain knowledge of immeasurable value. The Brothers have a significant amount of work before them to restore this library to working order. The eldest of the Brothers is here somewhere. He is working on cleaning out the shelves and inspecting the integrity of the scrolls. You are of most use helping him.”

Din watched as the droid stuck one of its sensors back into the interface. He knew IG would not be able to answer anymore questions until it unplugged from the archive, so Din wandered deeper into the library in search of the monk.

Din found an older looking bald human in a black robe who was putting tables and chairs to rights. The monk looked up as Din’s footsteps announced the bounty hunter’s arrival.

“Greetings Mandalorian,” the monk called. “Are you looking for your droid?”

“No,” Din said. “I found it up front at the interfaces. I’m here to lend a hand if you don’t mind striking a deal.”

The older man brushed off his robes and approached Din. “What kind of a deal?” the monk asked.

“I used to work for the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. You might not know what that means, but I have access to comms that can’t be traced by the Empire. I’ll leave a link with you and you can reach out for protection if you ever need it again. All I ask in return is if you find information on a people called the Jedi amongst all this,” Din indicated to the library at large. “You let me know immediately.”

“Why do you seek this knowledge?” the monk asked.

“You don’t need to know anything about my reasons besides they are altruistic.” Din answered.

“Well, you did restore our monastery to us, and the offer of protection is one we should not turn down,” the monk extended his hand to Din. “You have a deal Mandalorian.”

Din shook the monk’s hand. The monk began to explain the plan of action to the Mandalorian.

“The droid is working on the digital archive. I am doing my best to bring some order to furnishings, clear debris, and if possible, remove the scrolls from shelves that are within arms reach only. The shelves can be cleaned easily enough, but the scrolls will need to be assessed and restored with care. That is a longer-term project. For now, I would value assistance with clearing debris and creating a safe space for the scrolls that are removed from the shelves.”

Din got to work and did what he could to help the monk restore some order to the library. The afternoon wore away and when Din observed the outcome of their work, he could not help but wish he’d been of more use. The floors were clean, the tables and chairs where right side up and rid of dirt. Fallen columns had been pushed to areas where they would not be in the way, but the scrolls themselves were still covered in dust and cobwebs.

As if reading Din’s thoughts, the monk looked at him and said, “That is enough for today Mandalorian. It is nearly time for the evening meal to be served and I find myself waning.”

“Are you sure?” Din asked. “I could work on-

“That is not necessary,” the monk said interrupting Din. “The library will not be restored in a day, nor even several weeks. We know the lengths of the project that lies ahead, and my Brothers are prepared for the task. Consider yourself and your retinue welcome guests with us anytime should you need safe haven or have a burning desire to assist with renovations.”

Din did not get a chance to argue with, or thank, the monk before some younger members of the Brotherhood arrived with pitchers of water and trays of food. The younger men walked to the older monk and knelt before him with the food and drink.

“For you Elder,” they intoned together from their knees.

“Thank you, Brothers. You may serve the Mandalorian and I, but then you will leave to respect our guest’s creed,” the older monk said.

The older monk directed the younger ones to lay the food and drink on freshly cleaned tables that sat opposite one another. He then pulled out a chair from each table. He and Din would be able to sit and eat back to back so the Mandalorian would not be observed. The younger monks carried out their Elder’s orders and left the library.

The older monk indicated to Din that he should take a seat. Din chose the table facing the interior of the library and the monk settled in the seat which faced towards IG and the entrance.

“I am settled and cannot see you Mandalorian. I will warn you if anyone approaches,” the monk said.

Din removed his helmet and thanked the monk.

At first the men ate in silence, but as Din took his time to take in the vastness of the library and its squalor, he was compelled to ask the monk a question.

“I know you said you and your Brothers understand how big a job lies ahead of you to rebuild this place…but are you sure you have the know how and tools to really fix it?” Din asked. “I haven’t seen any droids here but IG, and that digital archive isn’t gonna fix itself. Plus, this place needs some heavy renovations.”

The monk smiled, but Din did not see it.

“No one has told you about our Brotherhood I take it?” the monk asked.

Din shrugged, but the monk did not see it.

“IG told me a bit. So did one of your younger recruits. Something about seeking enlightenment by removing your brains from your heads and putting them in jars…” Din trailed off because he didn’t know more about the monks and he realized what he did know did not sound flattering and might even be taken as offensive.

The monk laughed. “Well, none of that is untrue, but it perhaps lacks context.”

The monk poured himself some more water and cleared his throat. “The B’omarr of old did in fact remove the brains of the most enlightened monks from their heads and put them in jars. The enlightened monks were able to live on thanks to the nutrient mixture contained in the jars and the constant attentions of their still embodied brothers.

As to why we are confident in our ability to restore the library and the sect as a whole…we are men of science. Are we monks? Yes? Do we follow a creed? We believe so. But our creed is different I would think than any you have come across. We have no creation myth and we honour no Gods. Myths and imaginary infallible Gods are counterintuitive to our beliefs.

You see Mandalorian, we do not believe in infallibility. Nor do we believe in unchangeable dogma. We believe in the scientific method. My Brothers and I, like the B’omarr of old, are concerned with nothing less than solving the mysteries of the universe. How did our Galaxy come be, why are we and all the other species amongst us here, how best can we all live together? You might say we are mortals who do not believe in any God yet seek to know the thoughts of one.

The men who live in this temple with me were many things on their home worlds, engineers, chemists, doctors, physicists, biologists, geneticists…scientists of all kinds. A few were secular philosophers. We all seek disembodiment so we can do our work most efficiently. The Galaxy is in chaos. It has known an extended time of darkness and little scientific inquiry outside the confines of the Empire’s labs. We seek to create the knowledge necessary to foster peace and favourable living conditions for all beings.

My Brother’s and I must restore the library to not only preserve the knowledge of our forebearers, but so that we can know the process of disembodiment. Without the ability to become disembodied it will take generations to rebuild the body of knowledge lost during the dark times.”

Din has listened carefully to all the monk had to say. He could not fault the Brothers’ agenda, but he was concerned about their methods.

“What happens when you find the scrolls or the digital instructions for disembodiment?” Din asked. “What if there’s a trial and error period? Your numbers are small. You haven’t got brains to waste on the operating table.”

The monk laughed again.

“No, no we don’t. You are most correct Mandalorian. But, as I said, we are men of science. We anticipate a learning curve and are willing to delay disembodiment until we are sure the process is safe for experimentation. Once we have developed a method for disembodiment it is only the eldest of the Brotherhood like me who will be called on to sacrifice themselves in the name of science. Should those disembodiments fail the other Brothers will continue to refine the process or abandon it completely. As I said, we hold to no dogma. If we cannot safely recreate the disembodiment process, we will continue our scientific inquiry as embodied men and hope we can recruit new members to continue our work once our bodies give out.”

The monk stood and began gathering his dishes.

“I am finished my meal and will leave you now. I have not seen your face, and I will not attempt to. Please take your time if you have not completed your meal.”

“Thank you,” Din replied to the retreating monk.

The monk continued facing away from the Mandalorian. He paused in the doorway and gathered his thoughts. The man was not spiritual leader, despite calling himself a monk, but he felt the Mandalorian may require some ministering.

“When I first came here one of my Brothers who studies genetics told me something that has carried me through all the times of upheaval and frustration that have come with rebuilding our Order,” the monk said. “He told me one of the principle rules in his discipline goes as follows; it is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change.”

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Din had left IG in the library after finishing his meal. The droid stated it felt compelled to do as much work as possible on the archives given the sheer breadth and “majesty” of the old B’omarr’s research based on just the small amount it had scanned. Din had left the droid to its task and searched out where he should return his dirty dishes.

When Din arrived in the main hall of the temple, he found several Brothers milling about and he could hear music coming from outside the building.

“Greetings Mandalorian!” called one of the monks before rushing towards him. “Please let me relieve you of your dishes and direct you to the garden. Your child, and…” the monk seemed at a loss to describe what Cara was to Din. Din couldn’t help but sympathize. “your, er, companion are outside now enjoying the evening meal, and the music provided by our more talented Brothers. We have put together something of a small fete to give our thanks for your good deeds which freed our temple.”

“That isn’t necessary…” Din started to tell the monks, but they had already liberated the trays from his hands.

Other Brothers were beckoning him towards the door to the garden, so he followed. Din walked into a scene from a dream. The sun was still up but had begun its descent. The two moons of Teth were slowly rising to meet their daylight sister. Small lights twinkled from where they had been strung up amongst trees and plants. In a cleared space of grass several of the monks were playing a lively tune on their instruments while their Brothers sat about on mats or danced with one another to the music.

Cara and the child were right in the thick of it all. The temperature remained hot and the air was still humid. Cara sat on a mat wearing her makeshift bathing suit and a robe. The child had long since torn off his tunic and was doing a unique approximation of dancing - while naked- to the music. Din couldn’t help the smile that came to his face at the sight of his son so freely enjoying himself. The baby’s existence was precarious at the best of times and Din welcomed any chance the little one got to act like a child.

Din walked over to Cara’s mat and lowered himself down next to her.

“So, this is what you two have been up to all day hey?” he asked.

“Not really,” she said still watching the child. “First we went for a swim in the fountains. Then we explored the garden with the help of a few Brothers who study plants, bugs, and soil. The kid had a great time. Oh, and then there was the frog catching.”

Din looked down at her. She had tanned to golden brown in the jungle sun and it was enough to take his breath away.

“Did they feed you?” he asked while trying not to stare at the abundance of flesh she had on display.

“Of course,” she answered finally looking up at him to roll her eyes. “If anything, they overfed the kid. You are witnessing a full-on sugar high.”

As if on cue, the baby turned to face them. When he realized his father had joined the merriment, he let out an ecstatic whoop and rushed towards the mat. Din held out his hands and the baby ran straight into them. The child began babbling at warp speed as Din held him up.

“Sounds like you had a good day,” Din said to the child while tossing him in the air.

“Any luck with the library?” Cara asked while rolling onto her back and stretching her body out. She finished by placing her hands behind her head.

Din nearly missed catching the kid on his descent.

“Uh, no…the place is a wreck. IG is still down there trying to work in the digital archive. The monks know the library is going to take a long time to fix.”

Cara huffed out a breath. “So, no information on the little guy’s clan?” she asked watching the child wiggle in Din’s grasp.

“Nope. Not yet,” Din said before placing the child on the grass so he could join the dancing again. “I did make a deal with the Elder monk. I’m gonna leave them comm supplies so they can reach us on one of Greef’s pirate frequencies. If they need help again, or they come across any information related to the kid or the Jedi they will contact us.”

“Seems fair,” Cara replied.

Din picked at some grass. “The Elder said we’re welcome to stay as long as we like, and we can return if necessary.”

Cara looked up at him from the ground. “That’s not a bad offer. This place is off the grid, and it has its attractions.”

Din couldn’t stop himself from staring at her stomach and breasts. “Yeah, it does.”

The two adults watched the child dance and run around the Brother’s feet. Occasionally a monk would pick him up and swing him about or offer him another treat.

“Maybe we should call IG,” Din said.

“Why?” Cara asked. “The kid looks like he is having a great time. Plus, all this exercise and food is bound to wear him out.”

Din raised an eyebrow behind his helmet. “You would think,” he said. “But I’ve learned the hard way there is a fine line between activities that wear a baby out, and activities that overtire a baby and lead to an entire night awake trying to cope with an overtired baby.”

“In that case call the nanny,” Cara said.

Din pulled out his comm link and followed her instructions. IG-11 was reluctant to leave its post in the archives, but it also could not override its primary function; to nurse and protect. When the droid arrived in the garden it folded its arms and assessed the situation.

“Well,” the droid began looking down at Cara and Din. “I can see my work is cut out for me. We are precariously close to one sugary snack too many before Young Master will be impossible to put down for the night.”

“Sorry?” Cara said unconvincingly while raising her shoulders in a shrug.

IG-11 simply turned away and waded into the small party of dancers to carry out its primary function. Under the droid’s careful watch, the child spent another hour taking part in the revelry before his eyes began to droop. The droid scooped the child up and brought him to his caretakers.

“The Young Master has achieved optimal exertion and now is the best time to put him to sleep,” IG-11 stated while holding the child out to Cara. “Ms. Cara if you will kindly hold and rock the Young Master, he will be asleep in no time.”

Cara looked up at the droid with confusion. “Why me?”

“The Young Master, like infants of many species, finds it soothing to rest against a female’s breasts,” the droid replied in a matter of fact manner. “And given how exposed your breasts are at this moment the Young Master will no doubt drift off quickly.”

“What did you just say to me?” Cara was on her feet and ready for a fight.

IG-11 backed away slightly while keeping a protective hold on the child.

Din got up and tried to play peace maker. “Cara, it’s a droid. It wasn’t making a pass or a judgement,” he said while holding an arm out in front of Cara as a barrier. “Droid. Choose your words better next time.”

Din turned to Cara. “The droid could have worded it better, but it’s not wrong. The kid does like to cuddle your…” Din trailed off and just waved his hand towards Cara’s chest. “Whatever it takes to get a full night’s sleep, right?”

Cara snorted angrily but acquiesced. “Fine, give him here.”

IG handed the baby to Cara, and the little one immediately snuggled into her chest. Din and the droid looked at her pointedly.

Cara gave them both a smug look before doing the most seductive walk she could manage towards the droid and the Mandalorian.

“Don’t act like you don’t wish you were this kid right now,” she hissed before sauntering to the temple door.

IG-11 spoke first. “That logic is false. I cannot wish. I am a droid.”

“Shut up droid,” Din replied before walking in the direction Cara went. 

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Din regretted his choice to follow Cara into the monastery the moment she reached the stairs. Their suite could only be accessed by ascending the stairs. It was a trip that took at least a quarter of an hour. A trip during which he would have to watch from behind as Cara and her tiny shorts, climbed the stairs.

Din stomped up the stairs behind Cara who was oblivious to anything but the kid and her efforts to make him sleep. His body’s reaction to Cara was nothing new. She had been making him feel like his skin was too tight since she’d first kicked him in the head on Sorgan. Now though, his heart was as implicated as his loins in the situation.

Yesterday, Din had taken off his helmet to save Cara’s life. Last night, he’d taken it off again to reassure her that saving her life had not cost him his soul. Din made a fist. He hadn’t left his helmet off all night and pulled Cara against him to reassure her. No, he’d held Cara and his child because he desired it. Because he loved them both and wanted to hold them close.

A weaselly voice in Din’s head berated him. The voice called him weak, indulgent, and a blasphemer. Din swallowed hard and concentrated on a more primal part of his mind that again cried out, _better, we raised you to be better. To be loved and show love._

Din’s birth parents were gone. The Tribe was possibly lost to him. Had they not given their lives because he dared to care for a child and show it? Surely what he felt for Cara was not weakness. Even if The Tribe deemed his love for her a blasphemy, who was left to judge him now? And would the dead judge him as the living may have? Perhaps, in death they had learned how precious and finite life is.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

As they entered the suite Din was sure of only one thing. He couldn’t spend another night curled up against a partially clothed Cara in the same bed. Teth was too peaceful, his guard was down, and it was increasingly hard to deny his want. There were other rooms available on the same floor. He would help her put the child down and then make his exit.

That way, when he inevitably lost the battle with his body and gave into his fantasies about Cara, she wouldn’t be in the same bed with him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d slunk off alone to stroke himself to completion while biting on his fist to stop from calling Cara’s name. Din was man enough to admit it was unlikely to be the last time either. Didn’t mean Cara had to be party to his folly.

“The droid was right,” Cara said interrupting Din’s thoughts. “The kid is out like a light.”

“Of course, I was right,” IG-11 stated while entering the room several paces behind. “My scanners are fully functional.”

At first Din was startled by the droid’s presence. Clearly, he’d been thinking way to hard with his dick to notice IG-11 taking up the rear on the climb to the room. Now, he was glad for a neutral third party. If he announced his plan to bunk elsewhere while the droid was in the room Cara was unlikely to question his motive.

Din watched as Cara placed the baby in the pram and tucked the little one in.

“All good?” Din asked.

“All good,” Cara confirmed. She turned towards Din and indicated to the bed. “Last one asleep is a fucking idiot.”

Din watched Cara turn down the bed and climb in. When he didn’t follow suit, she looked at him like he had three heads.

“Do you have something better to do than get a full night’s sleep?” she asked incredulously.

Din rubbed the back of his neck where his cowl met his helmet. “No. I just thought you might want the bed to yourself. There’s plenty of rooms around. I’ll go sleep in one of those.”

Cara narrowed her eyes. “Is this about you taking off the helmet yesterday?” she asked while climbing out of bed.

“No,” he answered.

“Bullshit!” Cara countered.

“Riiiiiight,” IG interrupted. “I’ll just take the Young Master back down to the library with me, shall I? He is not particular about where his pram is while he sleeps, and-

“IG leave the kid,” Din said.

“IG take the kid,” Cara ordered at the same time.

The droid activated the controls of the pram from its internal protocol and pulled the pod to its side.

“My apologies New Master,” the droid said to Din while beating a hasty exit to the door. “Majority rules and all that.”

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Once IG-11 was far enough away from the two humans to be sure it could not be heard it spoke to the closed pram hovering at its side.

“The library is the best place for both of us right now. The altercation between New Master and Ms. Cara is either going to end in a physical fight or copulation and you certainly do not need to witness either.”

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

“What’s going on Din?” Cara asked back in the room.

“Nothing,” Din replied. “It’s not often we get a night child free, and access to beds. I just thought we might wanna take advantage of that.”

Cara crossed her arms. “IG is always on hand to care for the kid, and we don’t need to share your bunk on the _Crest_ either, but you haven’t minded doing that every night since you rigged up that blanket partition.”

Din searched for a way out of the conversation. “That’s different! The ship has limited space to sleep and we both need adequate rest to deal with the kid and the hunters.”

Cara looked at him skeptically. “Adequate rest?” she asked mockingly. “Is that why I’m constantly waking up to you pawing my tits in the night or your morning wood poking me in the back?”

Din clenched his fists at his sides. This was getting out of hand.

“You’re right okay?” he said. “I apologize. I should have more control over myself. I’m sorry about the manhandling in your sleep, putting my dick anywhere near you,” he paused, then added, “it was done unconsciously I swear. But, it’s just another indicator that I should sleep in another room. I’m pushing boundaries I don’t have permission to push. I took off my helmet, I-

“Aha!” Cara pounced on his confession. “I knew it!” she yelled. “I knew this was about the helmet!”

“It’s not about the helmet!” Din yelled back throwing up his arms.

Cara laughed but it wasn’t a funny laugh. “Not about the helmet. Right. You don’t need to lie to me to spare me you know. I get it. I’m fucking up your precious Way. I nearly got myself killed and you had to take off the helmet to rescue me! Now you’re forsaken or whatever!”

“It. Is. Not. About. The. Helmet.” Din ground out each word. “I meant what I said last night. I’m not sorry I saved you, or that you saw my face.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Cara asked. “Because something’s wrong.”

Din closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You really want to know?” he asked.

“Yes!” Cara shouted and threw her arms in the air just as he had done.

He might as well tell her. She’d already seen his face and apparently was aware he’d prodded her more than a few mornings in his sleep.

“I want to fuck you,” Din mumbled under his breath.

Cara shook her head. “What?!” she asked. “The fuck, Din? One minute you’re yelling at me and now you’re mumbling in Jawa.”

“I said, I want to fuck you!” he yelled before he could stop himself.

Din and Cara both reared back wide eyed at one another at his exclamation.

Din couldn’t stop the dam from bursting. “I want to fuck you! There, I said it, okay? The more I slack off, and sleep next you, or touch you, or break my creed’s ways, the more I think about it. And when I think about fucking you, I also think about being with you, being your man, and then I think about never trying to find the kid’s people. And then I think, why can’t I just be with you, and fuck you, and keep the kid? But I can’t do those things because I can’t make those choices for you and the kid, and I can’t even make those choices for myself.”

Din came to shuddering halt and sat on the end of the bed. He let out a defeated sigh, rubbed his hands over his T-visor, and put his elbows on his knees. Cara watched him from several paces away. She’d never anticipated her presence in a man’s life would cause him such an internal battle. She felt sympathy for Din’s predicament, but she couldn’t help the small bubble of girlish satisfaction that was percolating up through her abdomen and chest.

Cara decided to see if she could help him push a few more boundaries. She walked over Din and stood between his knees. He didn’t look up at her; just continued to stare at the floor, so Cara grabbed his hands and placed them on her waist.

“Hey Din?” she said to the back of his helmet.

The only answer Cara got was his hands flexing on her waist.

She bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling and smiled. “Did it ever occur to you that you have the power to make decisions about your life?” she asked.

Din still didn’t look up. “My decisions affect more than just me,” he mumbled.

Cara placed her hands on either side of his helmet. “True enough,” she mused. “But let’s take this logically. You want to fuck me. The only two people affected by that decision is you and me. So, since we already know where you stand on the issue let’s figure out where I am.”

Cara pulled his head up to face her. She tried to look him in the eyes as best she could through the T-visor. “I’d really like you to fuck me too,” she said to him with a smirk.

Din’s hands once again flexed on her waist. “It’s not that simple,” he said shakily. “Let’s say we do. What happens if it goes sour? The kid needs both of us. I need both of us. I can’t complete this mission without you.”

Cara’s face softened and her eyes welled up a little. “I know. And I know I’m saying this now when things are good, but I promise you, if we try this out- try us - I’m not going to take off if we hit a rough patch. I’ll be the first to admit I would have before I got invested in the kid. But he changes you, ya know?”

Din gave a choked guffaw. “Yeah I know,” he replied. “Still, it’s not easy as all that. As much as I want to fuck you, I’ve never done that…with anyone.”

Cara looked surprised. “Really? Not at all. Not even with the helmet on or the lights off?”

Din shook his head. “No, I guess I technically could have…” he trailed off and seemed to be searching for the right words. “But I always thought if I was going to do that with a woman, I should be man enough to look her in the eyes while I’m doing it.”

Cara felt another bit of her heart fly out of her chest and settle itself in Din Djarin’s back pocket. Leave it to him to be honourable in all matters.

“Okay,” she said, still gripping the sides of his helmet. “how about we take this one step, or decision at a time? Keep checking on each other?”

Din swallowed hard. What to do? What to do? He heard the calming voice in his head call out again _, be loved, show love, live for us_.

“Okay…y-y-yes,” he stammered.

“Decision number one,” Cara said. “Are we taking this off?” she asked while tapping on his helmet.

Din nodded. “Yes,” he said aloud.

He took his hands off her waist and Cara made a step back so he could remove his helmet. He carefully laid it at his feet and looked up at her. His face hadn’t changed from yesterday, but Cara felt like she was seeing him for the first time. His brown hair was shaggy; his bangs swept his forehead, and the ends curled around his ears and neck. His mustache was complete, but his beard was patchy, and she found that adorable. Two dark eyes bore into her own.

“Well,” she said. “At least when you’re looking a lady in the eyes, she has something nice to look at.”

A wide grin cracked his face and Cara’s knees nearly buckled. He was handsome, but his smile was like a super nova. She resolved to see it more.

He returned her kind words by grabbing her hands and placing opened mouth kisses on her palms and knuckles.

“What was that all about?” Cara asked with a giggle.

Din shrugged. “Just something I’ve been wanting to do since Nevarro.”

Cara shook her head and pulled her hands from his. “Okay, decision number two,” she said while shrugging off her robe and moving around him to crawl onto the bed and up towards the headboard. “Are you going to take any of that armour off and join me?” She patted the space next to her.

Din stood up and turned to face the bed. “Technically, that’s two decisions,” he joked. But he was already reaching for the clasps on his armour.

“Po-tay-do, pah-tat-toe, Mandalorian,” Cara said and raised an eyebrow at him.

Din stripped down to the sleeveless shirt and long underwear he wore under his armour jumpsuit.

“What?” he asked when he caught Cara eyeing the underwear. “You’re the one who brought up chafing earlier.”

She laughed out loud at his comment. Cara looked so beautiful with her head thrown back and laughter bubbling from her throat Din was compelled to crawl up the bed after her and wrap his arms around her.

As their legs tangled together, he asked, “Now what? I don’t really know what happens from here on out.”

“What do Mandalorians do when they want to show affection?” she asked while cupping his jaw.

“Besides fighting to the death?” Din asked and turned his face to kiss her palm. “We do this,” he said and brought their foreheads together.

Din held her close and murmured, “Just relax. Close your eyes. Breath with me. When I exhale, you inhale, okay?”

Cara nodded her understanding and they fell into silence breathing rhythmically. Cara felt overwhelmed by how erotic an act so chaste could feel. She fisted her hand in the back of his shirt and rolled her hips against his.

Din held her fast and kept his breathing slow. “Easy, easy,” he murmured. “We’ll get there.”

He drew back and looked at Cara. “How do Daughters of Alderaan show affection?” he asked.

“Well,” Cara replied. “We do this thing a lot of the Galaxy is into. You might have heard of it, it’s called kissing.”

Din made a face like he was considering this foreign act. “Heard of it. Never done it though. You might have to show me how.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Cara replied.

Then she did and it was. It turned out Din was just as quick a learner in the bedroom as he was on the sparring matt, and what he lacked in technique he made up for in passionate enthusiasm. Cara felt like a teenager again, making out for the fun of it without expectations or responsibilities.

Inevitably, their kisses became a little more heated, a little more intentional, and both let their hands wander. Cara could feel Din’s fingers worrying the edge of her bandeau, but he didn’t move them any further. Finally, she broke their kiss and sat up. She crossed her arms and grabbed the underside of her bandeau.

“Decision number three Mando,” she said. “Is this coming off?”

Din stared at her with glazed over eyes. His lips were swollen from kissing her and his hair was sticking up at odd angles. When he realized the implications of her words, he suddenly came back to himself.

“Yes,” he panted. “Please.”

Cara pulled off the bandeau and threw it behind her. Din watched as her creamy breasts, and dusk coloured nipples were finally revealed to him. Her hair swung down from where it had been caught in her top and fell across her face bewitchingly. He took it all in.

Cara mistook his momentary gaping for hesitation.

“Come on Din, say or do something here or I’m gonna feel pretty stupid.”

Din shook his head to clear it and reached for her waist pulling her to him.

“So beautiful,” he breathed against her mouth before kissing her and drawing a hand up to cup her breast. He let out a combination of growl and moan the moment his hand made contact.

Cara smirked and said. “Like father, like son. A couple of boob men.”

Din didn’t answer. Instead he kissed a trail from her mouth, to her collarbone, and down to her chest before latching onto one of her nipples. Cara’s next joke died on her lips as he wrapped his tongue around one nipple while using his free hand to pluck at the other. Whatever she was going to say came out as a long moan.

Cara gripped his head to her chest freeing him only to tug at his shirt. She had to know what his bare chest felt like against hers. Din reluctantly let her nipple pop from his mouth and pulled away to tear off his shirt. Cara ran her hands up his taut abdomen and chest to his shoulders. He was lanky, but broad shouldered and had the kind of wide back she loved to hold onto during sex.

Cara pulled him on top of her for another kiss and wrapped her legs around his waist. This new position caused his clothed erection to grind against her core every time they moved, and it was simultaneously too much and not enough for Cara. She pushed Din off her body and onto his side next to her.

“Are you okay?” Din asked in alarm. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Cara interrupted him. “You’re doing great. Trust me,” her voice heaved as it tried to keep up with her breathing. She rubbed her legs together before continuing. “You’re doing so good I’m getting a little needy and greedy. So, decision number four,” she grabbed his hand and brought it to the edge of her shorts. “Are these coming off?”

Din’s answer was to grin wolfishly at her before using both hands to pull off the small shorts. He gripped her shins to steady himself when he realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Cara smiled at his reaction. “The next part is a little more complicated than boobs. Why don’t you come back up here and let me show you how it works?”

Din nodded and returned to his place at her side. Cara placed one of his arms under her neck and took his free hand in her own. She placed their intwined hands on her stomach.

“Now,” she said as she pushed their hands down to through her pubic hair to her core. “Watch and learn.”

Din watched enraptured as Cara guided their fingers to where she wanted them. Like the hunter he was Din catalogued her movements and reactions to them for several minutes before pushing her hands away.

“Let me,” he said looking back at her face. “Please?”

Cara thought she might cum just from the earnest look on his face.

“Okay,” she said spreading her legs further and letting him take over.

Din sunk three of his fingers into her heat just as he’d watched her do and moaned. “You’re so wet,” he said weakly against her cheek.

Cara turned and kissed his mouth before replying. “Because of you. It’s for you Din Djarin. Make me cum, you know how.”

Din obliged by pumping his fingers in and out of her and using his thumb to circle her clit.

Cara moaned. “That’s it,” she encouraged him. “Don’t stop. Din, don’t stop.”

Din focused on carrying out her instructions and was rewarded with the sight and sound of Cara Dune nearing orgasm. Her skin was flushing which made the contrast between the tanned and untanned parts of her stand out even more, and she was making the most delicious noises.

“C-c-curl your fingers a little,” Cara murmured.

Din did as he was told and watched as Cara’s legs started to tremor. He knew he was getting somewhere but wanted to help her along. He dipped his head and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. She seemed to like that earlier.

Cara cried out in response. It was like there was an electric current running from her clit to her nipple. She thrust against Din’s hand as she felt her orgasm rolling up from her knees. She keened his name as it broke over her and Din thought he could die a happy man right in that moment.

Cara rode out the aftershocks before pushing his hand away. “Too much,” she mewled at him.

Din kissed her before raising his hand that was covered in her wetness to his face. Cara watched him through hooded eyes wondering what he would do next. Din gazed at his fingers for a beat before licking them clean. Cara smiled to herself; he was a keeper.

Din leaned down to kiss her and she tasted herself on his mouth.

He broke from the kiss and said, “Next time I want to use my mouth. I want to taste you.”

“That’s doable,” Cara said while reaching into his underwear. “But what about you? It’s your turn to have your legs shake.” She wrapped a hand around him and started to stroke.

Din grabbed her hand to stop her. “Wait!” he cried.

Cara pulled her hand back like she’d been burned. “I’m sorry! I forgot to check in and ask!”

“No! No, it’s not that,” Din said while breathing heavily. “I’m, I’m doing everything I can here not to cum in my pants. I have no illusions that I’m going to rock your world with my stamina, but if I do cum at all tonight, I’d like it to be inside you.”

Cara’s lowered her eyes and looked up at him through her lashes. “Is that so, Din Djarin?”

“Yes, if you’ll allow it,” he replied. “Only what we both want. Like we said.”

Cara rubbed his upper arms. “That’s a big step. Are you sure?”

Din looked down at her and gave her a crooked grin. “Decision number five Dune. Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Cara laughed. “I do. I really do.”

“That makes both of us.”

Cara moved to sit up and Din let her.

“How about you let me lead again?” she asked.

“Do your worst,” Din replied while shucking off his underwear.

Now it was Cara’s turn to gape silently. She cocked her head to the side and ran a hand up this thigh.

“Well, stamina or not, from the looks of what your packing I’m gonna enjoy this,” she said.

His face lit up again at her words with the smile she loved to see.

“I’ll have to take your word for it. This is the only one I’ve seen,” he replied.

Cara straddled him and pushed him up against the headboard. “This might last longer if you’re sitting up, and I’m on top.”

Din ran his hands up her sides and swallowed. “Again, gonna have to take your word for it.”

Cara placed her hands on either side of his face and leaned in until their mouths were almost touching.

“Joke all you like Din. I know how important the next few minutes are, and I want you to know it means as much to me,” she said before kissing him.

Din met her with equal passion and ran his hands up her back to tangle in her hair. Cara reached between them and gripped his erection. She slowly began to move back and forth against it to coat him with her own wetness.

Din’s grip on her hair tightened and he took in a hissing breath.

“Easy, gentle,” Cara said and used her free hand to pull his head back to look her in the eyes. “Breathe Din. Just like before when you showed me the Mandalorian kiss. Remember?”

Din nodded and took a sharp breath in as Cara continued to rock against him. He pressed his forehead to hers and she met him breath for breath before slipping him inside her. Din’s breath faltered at that moment, but he held on. Cara waited for his breathing to even out before slowly raising herself off his cock to plunge down again. Cara repeated this action several times before Din buried his face in her chest and started to meet her thrust for thrust.

Cara tipped her head back and let out a whine. She wasn’t expecting to be on the receiving end this time and it didn’t bother her. She wanted this to be good for Din. She placed one hand on his shoulder to leverage herself and the other she ran through the curly hairs at the nape of his neck.

Cara didn’t expect the sudden spark of pleasure that shot through her from where there bodied were conjoined. Her eyes rolled back as she realized Din had covertly reached a hand between them to rub her clit.

He pulled his head away from her chest long enough to ask, “Good?”

Cara nodded and clung to his shoulders. “So good,” she breathed.

He buried his face in her neck and Cara realized he was chanting something to himself. She pushed through her lust to listen. He was saying, “Please, please, please, please…”

Cara pushed her face into his shoulder. No one she’d been with had ever cared so much about her pleasure, or when she thought about it, her. She bit down on Din’s shoulder when she felt tears prick her eyes, and all it took was a few more thrusts of his hips and swipes from his thumb before she was moaning her release into his flesh.

Din felt Cara’s orgasm more than he heard it. He had no idea it would be like this. How could he? The rippling pulls of her inner muscles, and the gush of wetness along his shaft. He was powerless against it. Din let out a choked sob that sounded something like Cara’s name and came hard, as her body wrung everything he had to give out of him.

Cara sagged against Din before pulling back to look at him. They were both breathing hard.

“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”

He gave her another star destroying smile. “I think IG’s going to be on night duty a lot more.”

*

_"You're making me better_

_You're making me bright_

_You're making me fuller_

_You're making me tight_

_I'm believing in order_

_I practice I preach_

_You're making me over_

_You're making me reach_

_I want to grow up and live a good life_

_You're making me show up and now I want to be on time_

_You're making me aware_

_You're making me safe_

_You're making me over_

_You're making me brave_

_And I am talking talking talking to my higher self_

_I wouldn't do it for anyone else_

_You're making me open_

_You're making me free_

_You're making me louder_

_You're making me breath"_

-Karmic, "Higher Self"


	5. The Fifth Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Yoda is teething. Need I say more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are folks the final chapter of my first Caradin story. The first season was still on the air when I started this story. I'm sorry it takes me so long to produce writing. I'd like to say I could change that, but I'm picky. 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking this walk with me. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this work check out the others in my profile. They are all Caradin stories.
> 
> Be well!

_*When IG-11 hands Baby Yoda to Cara*_

_Cara: Hang on I don’t do the baby thing._

_Baby Yoda: Mama!_

_Cara: Say what?_

_Baby Yoda: Mama!_

_Din: I think he thinks you’re his mom._

_Cara: Well I don’t know where he got that idea but I’m no mother._

_The Armourer: Yes, you are._

_Cara: Excuse me?_

_The Armourer: He named you as his mother, so now you and Din Djarin must be his parents._

_Cara and Din: But-_

_The Armourer: This is the Way._

-@bendintrash, Tumblr meme? I don’t know what it is called or even if they made it originally…I’m old.

_“Star Wars is ultimately about family.”_

-Dave Filoni, “Disney Gallery, Stars Wars: The Mandalorian”

***

Cara Dune lay in the bunk aboard the _Razor Crest_ she usually shared with Din Djarin, owner of the _Crest_ , and occasionally with his small green foundling. Lately, Cara mused, the baby was her primary sleep companion and neither of them were doing much sleeping at all. The tiny alien was teething, and he had decided Cara, not Din, was the care giver who would see him through this difficult time.

The cramped sleeping quarters were bathed in darkness. Cara was sprawled amongst the blankets and pillows Din had arranged months ago, after Nevarro, and during a particularly frustrating point in the child’s potty-training adventure. The partition Din had rigged up down the middle of the bunk to hide his face from Cara was no longer necessary. He and Cara had left any barriers between them behind on Teth.

Cara was extremely grateful to share an emotional and physical intimacy with Din that deepened daily. What she hadn’t accounted for was how attached his son would become to her in the process. The baby however, seemed to be well over whatever stranger danger compelled him to nearly choke her with his special powers when Din had recruited her on Sorgan. Now, the child preferred to be cradled against her chest when sleeping, and while teething refused any one else’s efforts to comfort him.

The little one was currently dozing on her chest after hours of protracted wailing about the state of his gums. Cara rubbed the baby’s back and took a deep breath. She could smell herself. Showering was impossible because the teething gremlin lost his tiny mind whenever Cara attempted to put him down. The only tantrum more apocalyptic than his ire at being abandoned by Cara was the meltdown he had when she tried to take him into the shower so she could bathe.

Various kinds of baby food mash were stuck in her hair. She’d been wearing the same soiled t-shirt for days and wore no bottoms but her underwear. Because what even were pants in times like this?

***

“I think I should check on Cara and the kid,” Din Djarin, Mandalorian and first-time father, said more to himself than the other occupant of the cockpit.

Din had been busying himself with some navigation calculations while IG-11, Nurse Droid and first of its kind was hooked up to the ship’s comms system. Din had made a pact on the planet of Teth with the Eldest Brother of the B’omarr Order; the _Razor Crest’s_ crew would provide the religious order with security and supply runs in return for access to the Brotherhood’s vast library.

The Brothers had made good on their end of the bargain and routinely sent digital transmissions of whatever data they thought may aid Din in finding his foundling’s people. IG-11 was currently scanning through the data with a quickness only a droid could accomplish.

The droid paused its analytics long enough to rotate its ocular nodes towards Din.

“Are you sure that is the best idea, New Master?” the droid asked.

“I’ll be quiet about it,” Din replied defensively. “I’m a Mandalorian. I’ve been trained to stalk prey with better ears than the kid for days if necessary.”

“We do not actually know how sensitive the Young Master’s ears are in comparison to other species because we do not know anything about his species,” IG-11 reminded Din. “That is why I am reviewing all of the Brotherhood’s data.”

“It’ll be fine, Droid,” Din argued as he made for the cockpit’s door.

IG-11 swivelled its gaze back to the oncoming stars. “On your head be it New Master.”

***

Din crept down the ladder to the ship’s lower quarters. He moved stealthily towards the makeshift sleeping area that housed his equally makeshift family. Din paused in front of the door to the sleeping quarters and removed his helmet. Better to communicate silently with Cara should the kid be asleep.

Din set his helmet on the floor and proceeded to open the door by pushing a button on his left gauntlet. He cautiously peered around the edge of the door frame. The room was dark, but he could make out Cara lying on the bed with the baby clutched to her chest. She looked feral and her eyes were murderous.

She mouthed something at Din and even in the lowlight he could tell it meant, _What the shab are you doing in here?_

Din raised his hands in surrender and tried to communicate to Cara using only his facial expressions, his hands, and some jerking head movements that he came only to offer his assistance.

Cara had fewer free appendages to work with, but she got her point across. _Get the kriff out of here, in no universe are you helpful in this situation._

Din threw up his arms in response. His body language said, _Fine! Maker forbid I help with the care of my own child! Kriff me amirite?_

Cara’s response froze his blood. Her face clearly displayed her disbelief and near homicidal rage that Din felt himself the injured party in all of this.

Din swallowed hard and dropped his head in concession. Of course, she was right. After all, the kid was technically his kid, not Cara’s. But here she was unwashed, covered in three days worth of baby food and vomit (because it turned out the little bastard could cry so hard it made him regurgitate), and running on fifteen minutes of sleep at a time because his foundling had adopted her as its mother.

Din held his hands in front of himself as he backed slowly out of the room. He pleaded with his eyes for Cara not to kill him in his sleep. His chastened mannerisms might have gotten him off the hook, if he hadn’t been so focused on placating Cara that he tripped over his helmet where it lay just outside the door.

***

From its place in the cockpit, IG-11 heard a loud crash followed by the high-pitched wail of an irate toddler.

Ms. Cara’s bellowing voice followed.

“Really Din? Really? This is your idea of helping?”

If the droid could display smugness it would have. Instead, it settled on lowering the volume of its vocal coil and stating, “I did tell you so,” to the empty cockpit.

***

Later, much later, some time in the dark of night, or the early morning (because what even is time anymore?) Cara awoke to an unexpected, but not unwelcome scene. The child was sitting in just his nappy, rocking back and forth to music only he could hear while making vaguely song like sounds. For a being that only hours before was loudly exclaiming his belief nothing was alright and never would be again purely through the medium of screams the baby seemed oddly calm.

Din was sitting on the end of the bed, but he was clearly asleep. When he’d woken the child earlier, he had stayed to, if not help Cara, endure the tantrum along with her. Din’s back rested against the wall and he was stripped down to his under armour. His head lolled against his right shoulder.

Cara raised herself up onto her elbows. “Well hello Lil’ Man. You seem less ragey.”

The little one snapped out of his revelry and let out a happy coo. He waddled from his place between Cara’s legs and climbed onto her torso.

“Dah!” the baby cried and held his arms out to her while displaying a toothier grin.

Cara held the child against her chest and sat up. She raised the baby up so she could stare at him face to face.

“Look at that new tooth!” Cara exclaimed while peering at a tooth sitting to the right of the kid’s two bottom teeth. “Should we show your Dad?”

The child nodded in agreement. Cara turned the little one around to face his father and edged a foot towards one of Din’s thighs. Suddenly, she kicked him sharp in the leg causing the Mandalorian to startle awake and flail about as he tried not to become unseated.

Cara and the baby burst into laughter at the sight of Din groggily trying to maintain his position on the bed.

Din stared at the child with mock seriousness. “Who is doing all this laughing and waking me up?” he asked while crawling towards Cara and the kid.

Cara held the little one out of reach.

“Not us!” she cried while the baby laughed even harder.

“I think it was you!” Din growled and lunged for the kid. “And Imma getchu!”

Din and Cara play wrestled the baby back and forth between them until the kid clung to Din’s neck.

“Bah!” the child proclaimed while pointing at his tummy.

Din narrowed his eyes at his son. “Are you sure?”

The kid nodded and clapped.

“Are you really sure?”

Again, the little one nodded and squealed his consent.

“Okay,” Din said, before slipping a hand under his son’s head and bum. He brought the child’s tummy up to his mouth and blew raspberries all over it.

Din paused to catch his breath while the kid howled with laughter. He peered over the baby’s belly to look at Cara. She was fast asleep.

***

Din let Cara sleep eight standard hours while he and IG-11 handled the kid. By the time Cara woke up, the baby had gone down for his night cycle sleep, _thanks be the Maker_. Cara loved the small green alien, but they had seen enough of one another in the last seventy-two hours.

Din left the child with IG and prepared a meal for Cara while she showered. Much to her delight, Din encouraged her to empty the hot water tank. When Cara emerged from their shared bunk, clean and clothed Din led her to the small table they used for meals.

Cara eyed the spread in front of her. “What’s all this?” she asked.

Din didn’t answer but he sat down across from her. He reached under the table and tapped one of her bare feet. Cara smiled broadly. She knew what his actions meant. Since Teth, Din would periodically pull her feet into his lap and give her a foot massage.

Cara had yet to ask why Din liked to rub her feet. If she had inquired, Din would have told her as a child he watched the married men of his covert do the same for their warrior wives and he wanted to emulate the practice.

As Din kneaded the soles of her feet Cara ate her food with obvious relish. Once she was finished, Din cleared away the dishes and brought them to the galley. When he returned, he again pulled Cara’s feet into lap while sliding a datapad across the table in her direction.

“Trying to tell me something Mando?” Cara quipped.

“Read it,” Din replied while rubbing her feet.

Cara picked up the datapad and peered at the screen. It contained a message from the Newlife Point Hot Springs hotel on Carosi XII. According to the missive, one Cara Dune was booked for a luxury spa weekend at the hotel including access to the famed crystalline cave containing Carosi’s volcanically heated mineral pools. 

Cara dropped the pad and looked up at Din. He shrugged and continued to push a thumb into one of her arches.

“I just thought it would be a nice way to say thank you…for…for…everything. Especially with the kid…”

Cara moved like lightening. One moment she was sitting across from Din with her feet in his hands. The next moment, she was in his lap and kissing him soundly.

Din smiled when they both came up for air. “So, you like it?”

“I do,” Cara confirmed. “There’s just one thing wrong with it.”

Din frowned. “What?”

Cara reached for the datapad and held it up between them. “This booking is for one person only. No way I’m going without sex during our one child free weekend in light-years. You better be able to join me.”

Din’s face broke into one of Cara’s favourite smile. “I think that can be arranged,” he said.

***

_When I was very young  
Nothing really mattered to me  
But making myself happy  
I was the only one_

_Now that I am grown  
Everything's changed  
I'll never be the same  
Because of you_

_Nothing really matters  
Love is all we need  
Everything I give you  
All comes back to me_

_Looking at my life  
It's very clear to me  
I lived so selfishly  
I was the only one_

_I realize  
That nobody wins  
Something is ending  
And something begins_

_Nothing really matters  
Love is all we need  
Everything I give you  
All comes back to me_

_Nothing really matters  
Love is all we need  
Everything I give you  
All comes back to me_

_Nothing takes the past away  
Like the future  
Nothing makes the darkness go  
Like the light_

_You're shelter from the storm  
Give me comfort in your arms_

_Nothing really matters  
Love is all we need  
Everything I give you  
All comes back to me_

_Nothing really matters  
Love is all we need  
Everything I give you  
All comes back to me_

-Madonna, “Nothing Really Matters”


End file.
